


Needs Must

by GraceHolmes, redonpointe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Holmes Brothers' Childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6761398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceHolmes/pseuds/GraceHolmes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/redonpointe/pseuds/redonpointe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi, Angel of the Lord, meets a young Mycroft Holmes under unexpected circumstances and in each other find kindred spirits. Years later they are brought together again, only to be torn apart by forces beyond their control...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1980, part 1

' _Needs must when the devil drives_.' Wasn't that the human phrase? Wasn't that what people said when they had to do things they'd otherwise not do? When the need was too great, when the situation too dire to do anything else.

Naomi, angel of the Lord and leader of Heaven's Intelligence Division, would hardly be an angel to take a child as a vessel. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

There'd been an attack. A trap set for her specifically, something so cruel she'd only just barely escaped with her life. Her vessel had been killed in the escape. She herself was injured, the holes ripped through her grace were so painful she could barely focus. Still, she'd fled the mangled vessel as a silver light of falling angelic grace.

The year was 1980. October to be precise. The location was London, England, where the leaves were changing colors and the chilly wind penetrated through life with icy fingers. She felt cold, it was an odd experience to something as powerful as a star.

Staying as she was, even injured, meant she'd hurt humans. They'd not be able to survive witnessing the enormity of her four headed, six winged, twelve clawed form bursting with star light. That was not her goal, there was no need, and she could not stand for that. So she zeroed in on a vessel that would be suitable. The closest one. The most vulnerable.

This vessel she'd been reduced to was a doe-eyed ten year old with dark hair that reached the middle of her back. She accepted the angel immediately without question, and Naomi descended.

The light had been intense, the heat divine, but she settled into the vessel like a hand in a glove. Naomi stood up from the grass of, wincing just slightly as the small vessel hurt along with her. She needed to hide. She needed to find shelter so she could heal. She wouldn't be leaving this vessel until that happened, child or not. The child's mind was fresh, impressionable, full of potential. But she was a devote believer, accepting, with a real childlike faith. So Naomi fell into her mind to begin healing her grace.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes was all of ten years old and standing in his house's front garden, watching his three year old brother play in the grass. Their mother kept a weather eye on both of them from the kitchen window, despite his efforts to assure her that he had the situation well in hand. He was not a common ten year old.

The neighbor's daughter, brought over to 'make friends' with them, certainly seemed to be. He wasn't sure what their parents were thinking. He didn't need friends. Books were more than adequate company. As was his brother, even if he hadn't yet developed the skills to carry on a decent conversation. He would in time, if he had anything to say about it.

Mycroft smiled a bit at the idea and smoothed a hand over his perfectly combed hair, watching Sherlock giggle at something or other he'd found in the grass. He lifted his eyes to search for their companion.

She wasn't nearly as bothersome as he'd thought she would be, but she was slow. Slower than he was by quite a bit, and it was something he didn't fully understand just yet. He felt oddly out of place. Like he didn't belong with other children his age. His mother seemed convinced she would make a suitable friend, however, and he felt obligated to try. An experiment, perhaps, like he'd seen in his science books.

He spotted her some distance away, standing still with her eyes closed. Furrowing his little brows, he wandered over to check on her. "Are you all right?"

Naomi opened brown eyes. Children were almost a foreign concept to her, at least as far as she was supposed to act as one. Her experience killing them was more prominent. The boy that approached her was unusual and intriguing, even by first impression of his mind. She tilted her head and spoke, her voice more serious than she could help. Perhaps it'd be enough to deter any suspicion. "Yes, I am all right."

"If you say so," he answered dubiously, squinting his eyes a bit as he looked her over. "My mum says I should try and make friends with you. I don't think I'd be very good at it."

Naomi met his look with a curious one of her own. "I'm not one to make friends either." She said, speaking for herself rather than the child. "Do you need a friend?"

"I don't think I do," he said honestly. "But my mum doesn't agree. I keep thinking I should make a list." He turned his head to check on his brother. "Do you need a friend? Is that why your parents sent you over?"

Naomi didn't want to peruse the girl's memories too much, her mind was vulnerable and Naomi didn't have the strength to make sure things would remain as they were. Besides, she was intrigued. "I'm not sure if I need a friend." She said, glancing at the curly haired boy that Mycroft was looking at. "If you did have a friend, what would they be like? What do friends do?"

Mycroft wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like a good opportunity to find out. He turned his attention back to her. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to try and find out."

"I think we can come to some sort of arrangement." She replied, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Just a child, and so vulnerable. If those who hurt her found her among them, these humans would not be left alive. Unnecessary casualties. There'd be no reason for that. She stepped up to him and offered her hand. "Call me Naomi."

"Mycroft," he introduced himself in turn, gripping her small hand in his. "Would you like to see our library?"

"I'd like that." Naomi said, taking her hand back after a moment. "It's probably safer inside."

"Safer from what?" Mycroft turned towards his little brother, already stepping towards him to usher him inside as well.

Naomi paused, not meant to have said that and it flashed over her young features. "I don't like being outside for very long." She amended.

"No, I think you meant what you said," he said confidently. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Let's talk in the library." Grabbing Sherlock's little hand, he helped him up and walked with him, and his new friend, Naomi, inside the house.

"Tired of playing already?" Mrs Holmes greeted, poking her head out of the kitchen as they walked past. "Give him here. It's mealtime for him, at any rate," she continued with an openly loving smile for Sherlock. "You two can go on ahead. I'll call you in for dinner."

"Buuuut my My." Sherlock stated, only to be scooped up and carried off.

Naomi watched the dark haired woman with a curiosity. But she was more drawn to continuing on with Mycroft than questioning his mother. She pulled off the little peacoat her vessel had been wearing, and draped it over a chair. Her brown eyes fixed on Mycroft again. "He's very young." She stated.

"Seven years younger than I am. He's three," Mycroft confirmed, with the briefest fond smile for his brother. "I read to him sometimes. He seems to like it and mum says it's good for both of us." He stopped once they'd entered the library, stealing a hesitant glance her way. "Who are you really?"

Naomi stopped next to him, turning just her head. One could try, but she wasn't human enough to be able to fake being this child. Besides, what could this boy do? "I'm not going to hurt you." She said firstly. "And my name _is_  Naomi. I need…shelter for the time being. There is someone after me."

Mycroft's brows pulled together, and he snuck a peek over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Someone dangerous, then? I don't think my mum would mind you staying over if she believes we're becoming friends…"

"Very dangerous," she confirmed.

He paused, attempting to understand things he hadn't yet been exposed to. "What about your parents? Or… Delilah's parents, I suppose."

"I can…alter their memories. They'll never know she was gone. As long as I heal without being found, dying, or being the reason for harm to come to any humans, I'll consider it a success." She paused, turning away to move towards the bookcases. "You weren't supposed to know either."

"I don't usually miss things," he confessed. "I'm still trying to understand why." He watched her browse through his books, shuffling in place before he marched up to browse with her. "Will you alter my memories too?"

Naomi dropped her hand and turned to him. She crossed her arms and leaned against the bookcase. "I'm an angel. A divine being created before time itself. I watched humanity rise from the mud. I've killed thousands, and the creature that is after me will shred anyone who got in his way if it meant finishing the task of killing me." She paused, brown eyes searching him. "Do you want to remember?"

"That depends." Mycroft didn't want to give a definitive answer, partially because he wasn't entirely sure what forgetting would entail and partially because he'd only now realized there was a distinct possibility that his young life was in danger. "Would it be alright if I made a decision later, when you have to leave?"

"If you like. We'll leave it until then." Naomi said, but there was just the smallest smile on her young face. "You're fascinating."

Mycroft blinked several times in quick succession, an unconscious habit that would follow him into adulthood. "That's not what other kids usually say."

"I'm not a child." She replied. "But it is a pity they don't see it. But I've little experience with children. At least in the social sense." Her thoughts drifted to days not so long ago, when she swept through the land of Egypt. She killed many first born sons that day. "They're not as clever as you." She added after a pause.

"They're… slower," he agreed cautiously. "Talking to them isn't easy. They don't understand." He watched her thoughtfully for the space of a few heartbeats. "You're an angel, then. I've read of them… or a version of them, I suppose."

"There's many myths about us. I am a warrior, not a baby cherub." Naomi said. "But I meant what I said. I will not harm you, it is not in the plan, and will do my very best to ensure your safety."

Young as he was, Mycroft still didn't trust her immediately. But he was more than a little curious and she wasn't making fun of him, like other children he'd been forced to interact with before. More than anything, he wanted to follow through with this friendship experiment. "Is there anything you need me to do?"

There was a bit of a pause, as if she was thoroughly considering his question. "Tell me about yourself?" She suggested.

Mycroft walked over to one of the plush leather chairs and sat down, fidgeting with his shirt. "I don't know if there's much to tell. I spend a lot of my time reading. Lately it's been this fantasy series." He paused. "I read them to my brother."

Naomi meandered his way, her eyes flitting from book to book until she turned her attention to him and sat down gracefully on the next chair over. It dwarfed her petite frame and she sorta curled up in it. "You care about your brother." She stated rather than asked. "I…I have many brothers and sisters. But I'm not close to any of them."

Mycroft smiled a bit and relaxed in his chair, l short legs stretched out in front. "It's my job to protect him," he announced. "I suppose it can't be the same with angels. You don't... need each other that way, do you?"

"I protect Heaven. That's my job." Naomi started. "If…necessary casualties happen along the way, I mourn them, but move on. Closeness,  _needing_  each other, is counteracting of everything we need to do."

Mycroft's little brows pulled together, but he nodded in understanding. "Will you tell me what you're hiding from now?"

"A rogue angel. Someone who…drifted away from our mission. He's amassed quite a bit of demonic power, coupling himself to both realms." Naomi said. "His intent was to start a wave of devastation over the world. Despite my injury and the loss of my vessel, I stopped it." She paused, trying to decide if it was too much information. Not a problem, she'd wipe his memory if she needed to. "He's very dangerous. His name is Barabbas."

"Barabbas from the Bible?" Mycroft was once again curious and intrigued by the sheer amount this angel must've seen, and he'd only read a fraction of. He suddenly didn't want to forget, but he didn't want to make a hasty decision either. "Once you're healed, you'll go after him again," he said more than asked. "How long will it take for you to regain your strength?"

"A day or two." Naomi answered, her smile enigmatic as she watched him. "I can't contact my division, because there's a mole and I don't know who it is yet. I must do this alone." She paused. "You believe all of this. Without proof?"

"I don't know if I believe it, but you're not the same girl I met earlier and you have no reason to lie… at least I don't think you do. I made—" He paused carefully to make sure he got this right. "Deductions. If what you're saying is true, I'll have proof soon enough."

"Sooner than you think." Naomi said as she straightened in the chair. Maybe it was an effort to impress him, maybe it was to connect to a human as she hadn't in millennia, maybe it was because she was alone. She straightened up and let the holy light grow within her. It shown out her eyes and through her chest until it was enough to cast shadows of her expansive wings on the walls. She extended them up and around, like a canopy of feathers.

Mycroft stared at Naomi with wide blue eyes. Young as he was, he still didn't impress easily, but  _this_ was quite impressive. He found himself sitting up in his chair as well, trying to take the full expanse of her wings, casting shadows on the wall. "Wow," he breathed quietly.

Naomi let the light die and relaxed completely back into curling up in the chair. Nothing like an angel leader, but more like a curious child. It was an odd place to be in, but she didn't mind so much. "I take your interjection as approval and appreciation. Do you have any other questions?"

Mycroft shook his head once. "Nothing further for now," he assured her. "We should probably talk to my mum and explain why you'll be staying." He rose to his feet and gestured for her to walk with him. "Come on. Dinner will be ready soon, too."

He thought perhaps Naomi would tamper with his mother's mind, out of necessity, of course, but there was little he could do to help that. They'd need to compromise if this was going to work and, surprisingly, he  _wanted_  this to work. He'd never had a friend before, primarily because they all proved slow or idiotic (or both, to his growing dismay), but Naomi was neither one of those things.

He was intrigued by the idea of friendship for the first time in his short life, and he was eager to know more.


	2. 1980, part 2

Naomi stayed for several hours, resting and conversing quietly with her new human. She found Mycroft as intriguing as he found her. This child was very quick, she was dually impressed. Then the subject of chess came up. Mycroft took the initiative to teach her.

They were halfway through their first chess match when Violet Holmes' scream sounded through the house. Naomi's eyes turned to Mycroft in confusion. "I take it that's not an ordinary occurrence in your household."

Mycroft's head immediately snapped up. "Not at all," he answered Naomi, rising from his chair to see what all the commotion was about. He gestured for Naomi to follow, but he was walking quickly, attempting to figure out what was happening on his way over. He didn't have to attempt for long. Sherlock lay in a crumpled little heap on the floor, at the bottom of the stairs.

He was beside him in seconds, nervously checking him for damage. "Sherly?"

Violet was on the phone, calling for the ambulance. The corded phone was as far as it could reach, so she was in viewing distance as she spoke very quickly to the dispatcher.

Naomi followed Mycroft at a distance, hesitant about the situation. It was when she noted the blood on his head and the limpness of his limbs that she gently moved in next to Mycroft. Her voice was soft. "Here, let me."

Mycroft looked at her with wide blue eyes and nodded, scooting to make room. He was scared and shaken enough that he was having a hard time exteriorizing his thoughts. He wasn't entirely sure what Naomi was about to do, but whatever it was, if it made his brother whole again, he wanted it done. "What are you going to do?"

"Fix him." Naomi reached for Sherlock's bloody head and took it in both of her hands. Her fingers splayed out in his mop of curly black hair. She was still healing herself, but the gift was so small that she could spare the energy. Sherlock's silver blue eyes snapped open and his body coiled until he'd pulled away from the little angel and launched himself into Mycroft's arms. Naomi let him go and gave them room as Sherlock clung to his brother.

"It's all right, Sherly," Mycroft whispered reassuringly, holding his little brother tight to his chest, smoothing a hand over his unruly curls. He eyed Naomi over Sherlock's shoulder, curious and relieved, but spoke to his brother first, seeking confirmation. "You're all right. How do you feel? Does anything hurt?"

"Scared." Sherlock buried his face in Mycroft's shirt and held on tight. "No hurt. Just scared. I fell."

Naomi sat back on the ground, legs crossed, hands folded, and looking quite innocent. She watched carefully, as if analyzing and trying to understand the human sibling interaction.

Mycroft exhaled in relief. "Fear is wisdom in the face of danger," he quoted from a book. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." He addressed Naomi next, stealing a glance at his mother on the phone. "We'll have to find a way to explain this to her."

"Not a problem, I can take care of it." Naomi said, indicating it wasn't just an explanation but something deeper if needs must. She pulled herself off of the ground and walked over to Violet. The woman was visibly confused about the whole thing. "You may hang up the communication device, we have it well in hand."

Sherlock sniffed, but nodded his understanding of Mycroft's words. His next question was quiet. "You going to leave me, for your new friend?"

Mycroft almost smiled, and pulled back to meet his little brother's eyes. He ruffled his curls, gently. "Never," he promised. "I'm always going to be here for you. My new friend..." He peeked at Naomi. "Will have to accept us both, or not at all."

"That's right." Sherlock nodded his little head and held on tight.

By the time Naomi had returned, Mrs Holmes had blinked and forgotten the entire encounter. The adult woman disappeared to leave the three children alone. Naomi offered a rare smile and sat down next to Mycroft. Sherlock eyed her and she eyed him right back. "She won't remember." She said. "But Sherlock will. Hopefully it'll be a lesson about the stairs and the fragility of the human body."

"Thank you," Mycroft said first. "And yes, I think he's learned his lesson. Haven't you, Sherly?"

Sherlock crinkled his nose but let out a little giggle. "No surfing down stairs. I got it."

"I have an idea, if you're interested. Do you want to travel somewhere?" Naomi asked.

Mycroft leaned back to peer at his mother, and then at Sherlock. Concluding the three of them could skip out for a few hours without being missed, he turned his eyes back to Naomi, and smiled. "Yes, I think I'd like that."

Naomi's wings whispered in the space and without warning she transported them away. A pull of what would most likely be necessary items, she materialized a duffle bag along with them. And the two children and the angel landed on a quiet beach somewhere in the Caribbean. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and nodded her approval. A relocation would certainly throw her pursuer off of the trail. It was practical. "Yes, I think this will do quite nicely."

Sherlock, being all of three and a half years old, had no idea what just happened. And his eyes were wide as they looked up at his brother. Otherwise speechless.

Mycroft was a little caught off-guard himself, but caught up fairly quickly. He was still holding Sherlock's tiny hand, and he looked down to meet his little brother's blue eyes with a growing smile. "You like it?" He looked up to find Naomi. "Yes, I think it'll do. Where are we?"

"The British Virgin Islands." Naomi answered, pulling off the little sweater her vessel had been wearing and tossing it towards the duffle bag. She stood up straight, scanning the empty beach around them as if Barabbas would find them. "I believe this one is called White Bay Beach. Whenever you'd like to go home, let me know. Everything you need should be in the bag."

"Pirates!" Sherlock giggled and tried to scramble out of Mycroft's arms.

"Pirates!" Mycroft let his brother go with a laugh and stood up straight, removing his own jumper and rolling up the sleeves of his little shirt. He walked over to search through the bag, sneaking a peek at Naomi but keeping close watch of his little brother. "What do you know about pirates?"

"Not much." Naomi admitted. "Other than knowing of their existence within society's. They were not a necessity in my plans. I spent most of the last thousand years focused on other things."

"Pirates are mean!" Sherlock said. He had off his jumper and was using it as a sort of cape, pumping his fist into the air with conviction. "And clever and super fast! Ahoy!"

Mycroft wondered, not for the first time, about Naomi's true age, and made note of it to ask later. He wasn't entirely sure she'd answer, but he had nothing to lose. "Sherly's a fan," he explained, smiling a bit once he'd neatly folded his jumper and placed it inside their bag. "I suspect he'll want us to play with him here for a little." Pause. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to indulge him, even for a sort while? We don't have to do much."

"Play." Naomi repeated the word as a foreign concept. Her brow furrowed slightly. "I'm not certain what that entails."

"Play." Sherlock repeated seriously, as if that would explain it. Having ditched the cape jumper, he'd stripped down right then and there to change into his black swimming trunks.

"Pretending," Mycroft explained further. "Or at least, Sherlock would pretend to be a pirate and we'd play along as his enemy. Sometimes there's sword fighting."

"Oh, if you wanted swords I could obtain some-"

"SahWOHRDS!" Sherlock perked up. "I want one!"

Mycroft immediately panicked. He'd been taking fencing lessons, yes, but Sherlock was nowhere near ready to handle a blade. "Not real ones," he clarified quickly. "Pretend ones made of wood, maybe. Or plastic."

"Oh, pretending to fight with fake weapons." Naomi had reached an almost understanding. "I'm familiar with the concept. Pretending to do something helps train those who are inexperienced or need the lesson. I'm an expert with a blade, perhaps I can show you."

"Yes, I'd like that, actually." Mycroft relaxed and once again looked at his brother. "Would you like that, Sherly? But you have to promise to pay attention and be very careful."

"I'm always careful. Let's do it!" Sherlock declared, hands on his hips. "Even if I'm a idiot, I be fine."

Naomi raised a brow, almost confused at the young child. "Very well. We will…play pirate."

Mycroft crouched next to the bag and searched through it for anything they could use as swords. "We practice so we're not idiots. Don't worry, Sherly, you'll grow out of it. I'm working on it."

"He's the smart one." Sherlock told Naomi in all seriousness, his young face expressing both melancholy and failure.

"I'm smarter." Naomi assured him, completely uncertain if that was to be considered assurance at all. "But I'm here anyways. There's nothing wrong with varying levels of intelligence. Besides, you're still very intelligent compared to other humans. Lots of potential with you both."

Mycroft wasn't trying to be cruel to his little brother, at least not on purpose. He simply wasn't sure, at his young age, how to properly convey the fact that his mind needed improvement, just as his own had when he'd been younger, and naturally, still did.

He retrieved a few plastic replicas of swords, as well as a pirate hat for Sherlock, and the usual eye-patch for himself. "You'll be smarter in time, Sherly, as long as you keep improving yourself. Now, however," he handed him the pirate hat and sword, "is time to play."

Sherlock's face lit up and he took what was his and arranged it as usual. The hat sat on his mop of black curls and he brandished the sword. He took the opportunity to poke Naomi and then ran away through the sand giggling. "You'll never catch me! I'm the clever pirate Redbeard!"

Naomi's brow pinched and she made a bit of a face. That never would have gone down in the 'pretending' she guided. "Well then." She glanced up at Mycroft. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Mycroft donned his eye patch and offered Naomi his sword. "Would you like to use this? I think you might have more experience. Just be gentle."

Naomi took the plastic weapon, briefly annoyed by it's imbalance. Annoyance turned to interested in the mechanics of childhood. "Gentleness is not a quality I use very frequently." She swiped the sword. "I'll follow your lead."

Mycroft smiled like the pirate he was pretending to be and took off after his brother. "Come along, then!"

He was more than a little curious about Naomi, and every revelation, no matter how seemingly small, only served to spark that curiosity. He'd almost expected her to refuse joining in, but she hadn't. He considered perhaps she might've been curious too, but she was difficult to read.

Despite his young age, he was an observant child. Already he was learning to pick up on subtle cues of human interaction, and to detect signs of tell-tale activities. Naomi didn't adhere to these things. Her demeanor was foreign. The expression on her vessel's face impassive. He wanted to know more of her, not just because it presented such an intriguing challenge, but also because, for the very first time, he didn't feel the need to tone down his intellect to avoid making others feel inadequate.

Sherlock was only a short distance ahead of him now, and Mycroft reached out to pluck his tricorn hat off his head. "My treasure!"

"No!" Sherlock turned and toddled to one side, brandishing his sword and pointing it at Mycroft. "You'll give me my treasure back!"

Naomi wasn't too far behind Mycroft, completely confused about what she was supposed to do. That was until Sherlock turned his sword at her and swung it for her knees. She blocked it with a practiced motion.

"I will take your Evil Pirate Queen for revunge!"

"I think it's  _revenge_." Naomi fixed the mispronounced word, but was struck at with the sword. Again she blocked it. But Sherlock had pushed her towards Mycroft.

"If you want my Pirate Queen, you'll have to fight!" Mycroft said in his best Evil Pirate King voice, and dropped Sherlock's hat on Naomi's head now that she was close enough. "Aye, she's a fierce one. If you defeat her, you'll get your treasure."

Naomi glanced up at the hat but had all of another second before Sherlock went at her with the plastic sword. Each blow was blocked with ease as the ancient angel battled the almost four year old boy. That is until she glanced once at Mycroft. The point of this was training, yes, but also encouragement. She knew the benefits of a win as far as morale went. So she let little Sherlock Holmes stab her with the plastic sword. She wasn't sure how she should act when that happened, but the child seemed happy enough. He stepped back, swishing his sword in a motion he'd learned from his brother, and spoke very seriously and proudly. "I bested your queen, now I deserve my reward."

Mycroft made a big show of looking defeated as he took the hat off Naomi's hat. "I'm very sorry, my queen," he said apologetically, and turned towards his brother with a little bow. He lifted the pirate hat towards him with both hands. "You have bested me this time, Redbeard, but be watchful. I'll yet have my revenge!"

"That's  _Captain_  Redbeard!" Sherlock corrected as he snatched his hat back. But it wasn't much longer before he giggled and took off as fast as his little legs would carry him, destined for the clear blue water.

"That was a curious experience." Naomi said, tilting her head slightly. "Young children are cute."

"He is cute, isn't he?" Mycroft took off his eye patch to watch his little brother, speaking as if he weren't a child himself. "And fragile," he added quietly. "I held him when he was a baby, with my mum's supervision. I was afraid of dropping and hurting him."

"As you should have been. Humans are delicate creatures, especially the very young and very old." Naomi said, offering no words of comfort for Mycroft's obvious and unspoken worry. But nor did she correct Mycroft's assumption about his age. "But I trust you'll do as any brother would and protect him."

In the following years and all the way up to middle age, Mycroft would go above and beyond the call of duty for his little brother. He didn't know that right then, at ten years old. He only knew his young determination and commitment to his little brother's life. "I am and I will," he told Naomi, and stole a peek at her face. "Thank you for playing with us. I know that must've been strange."

"Less than you might think." Naomi said. "I've trained angels in similar situations. 'Playing' to mimic the real thing. It's not as childish as one might think." She slipped off her sand covered shoes and stepped towards the water. She offered her hand. "Shall we? I've heard it's quite warm."

Mycroft toed off his shoes and tossed his eye patch towards their bag, taking Naomi's hand a moment later. "Maybe we can practice ourselves while you're staying with us," he suggested. "I've been taking fencing classes and I could use the practice."

"I think I can help you, perhaps later this evening." Naomi led the way to the water. Sherlock had found his way to the edge and was running back and forth as if he was teasing the wave and then running away from it. Naomi almost smiled as she watched him and her fingers flexed in the hand she hadn't let go of. "You're very important." She said a moment later. "You will grow up to be an instrumental part in this world. You're built for it."

"I am?" Mycroft blinked very quickly in confusion, following Naomi's eyes to his little brother. "If it's true that I'm... special, I'd like to do something useful," he admitted. "But I still don't know what that is."

"I can recommend a few possibilities." She said. "I prefer to do my…leading from behind the scenes. It's safer that way. If you let a puppet have the spotlight, they will rise and fall and you will remain. Essentially, you must make yourself indispensable."

Mycroft nodded thoughtfully and his young blue gaze turned momentarily distant, as if considering the possibilities. It wasn't a topic of conversation he'd ever addressed with an adult, and even if he had, he doubted they would've taken his curiosity seriously, they way Naomi did. He tucked her words away for further consideration and research at another time, and once again swung his eyes her way. He squeezed the hand he was still holding and smiled.

"I still have a lot to learn," he said earnestly. "Thank you, for your advice. I think this friendship experiment is working out already."

"I think so too." Naomi said, a rare smile crossing her face.

They played at the beach for another two hours before Naomi brought them all home. Sherlock hadn't been ready to go, but the rumble in his tummy was enough to pull him out of the warm ocean water and pirate land, and back into reality.

The angel was tired after the flying and needed time to heal from her other injuries. She folded large grey wings behind her and curled up on the couch. Mrs Holmes tutted around them, none the wiser about where they'd been the last two hours. Dinner was served, dessert followed, and evening settled over the Holmes house.

Naomi would stay the night on the couch. She'd rest and meditate to the point of appearing as if she was sleeping. She needed the energy for tomorrow, even if she didn't know it just then.


	3. 1980, part 3

It was a Saturday, early in the morning when Naomi came to from her hours of healing meditation. The rest of the house was sleeping and she monitored the heartbeats of each one in turn, pausing briefly with one in particular. Funny how much a human had wiggled his way into her thoughts. But she decided to think about the potential of the young Mycroft Holmes later. Through the front window, the sun was just streaking the sky in new colors. The angel stretched her little vessel and stood up from the couch.

Through the window, a dark figure in the trees caught her attention and her wings flared into a defensive position. A tinge of fear settled in her chest.

He'd found her.

Mycroft spotted the same figure from his bedroom window upstairs and pressed a hand against the cool glass. He'd only just woken up and brushed his teeth, and he hadn't yet changed out of his cotton pajama set. He didn't bother with it either. Worried it might be Barabbas, he grabbed his tartan print dressing gown from where it hung over one of the posts of his bed, and climbed quietly down the stairs.

"Naomi," he whispered quietly from the doorway of the library, shuffling into the room only a moment later. "Is it him?"

"Yes." Naomi's answer was simple and she summoned her angel blade. The silver piece of Heaven's glory looked too big for a vessel so small, but she wielded it with skill and comfort that spoke of thousands of years of practice. She looked at him, this intriguing little boy, and felt the need to ensure his survival."If I die, I need you to get your family in one room and paint these," she raised two fingers and placed them on his forehead to transfer the images of angel wards to him, "on the four walls. He has no quarrel with you, but I'll do my best to ensure he doesn't come after you."

Mycroft blinked quickly at the new bit of information Naomi had deposited inside his head. He nodded once and stole another glance out the window, just over her shoulder. He wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to his new friend just yet, certainly not permanently. There was little he could do, he knew as much, but a part of him still felt the need to press the point. "I'll take care of it, don't worry," he said first, responsibly, and then hesitated. "You really think you're going to die? Have you healed enough to take him on?"

"I suppose we'll see." Naomi said, glancing down at her blade. "But my gifts rely not just on simple strength, but in strategy and intelligence." She met his eyes again, her own brown ones almost vulnerable. Her free hand moved from her side to gently resting on his cheek."It is there I have the advantage. Do not fear, I will only let myself die if I really need too."

"If you say so." Mycroft was still apprehensive about what she was about to do, but he could understand the necessity. He leaned into her touch almost unconsciously. "If there's anything you need me to do, I'll be watching from the window. Just let me know." Pause. "And be careful... please."

Naomi was honestly touched by his concern, and with that came a furious curiosity about the humanlike emotions she willfully ignored and exploited. "To the best of my ability. I'll see you soon, Mycroft."

And with a rare smile, she snapped her wings and placed herself before a murderer.

Mycroft immediately rushed to the library window and climbed up on the couch set up in front of it to peek outside. His little fingers anxiously gripped the back, and his brows pulled together. He wasn't sure whether he should go and usher his family into a room now, as a precaution, or whether he should wait.

Deciding he could get to them in time should the need arise, he chose to stay on the couch. If nothing else to see Naomi in action and satisfy his curiosity.

The wind was cold and whipped around the little angel in the soft light of the dawn. Naomi stood in the middle of the grassy area with a silver blade in one hand and her grey wings extended in a threatening way. She spoke, and the little girl's voice carried with divine authority. "You should have stayed in my chair where you belonged."

Barabbas' coppery brown wings unfolded slowly, lifting up and away from his body as he stepped forward. His angel blade slid into his hands. "Never again," he said severely. "I've abided by your rules, Heaven's rules, for far too long. I won't abide by them any longer... and I'll make sure of it by claiming your life."

"And I will ensure you will fail." Naomi said impassively. She put her free hand up and a white heavenly light shown through it and in her eyes. "You will all fail. I will fix you again and again until I am satisfied and you have no option but to comply. This is your last chance. Do you understand?"

"I understand that you give me no choice," Barabbas said ominously. "But then... you never really did, did you? You've brought this upon yourself, Naomi." With a snap of his wings, he transported himself behind Naomi's little vessel with his angel blade at the ready.

Naomi expertly turned herself to meet the attack with an upward swoop of the blade, never wanting to leave her back vulnerable. True to her word about the last chance, she was done talking. He would die.

Blade against blade, the battle commenced between the young girl and the tall blond man. Unseen wings snapped and flared, rotating in a whirl of heavenly feathers. Naomi fought hard, focusing her injured grace for the simple strategy of staying alive. The end of the blade buried it into the other angel's thigh and she twisted.

Barabbas let out a mighty scream of pain and lunged at Naomi full force in an effort to knock her off balance. He was going for the kill, no longer wasting his time with words either. He would kill her if she gave him half a chance and he'd relish every minute of it, regardless of the little boy watching from the window or the family still sleeping upstairs. He'd take care of them afterwards if necessary.

Naomi fell onto her back in the grass, her injured grace and her small vessel responsible for that weakness. Terror gripped her grace and wouldn't let go. She couldn't die, she had too much to do. There was too much at stake. Barabbas was coming in for the kill, she could see it in his eyes and in his coppery brown wings. Her little vessel was an advantage at this point and she twitched to the side to avoid a fatal hit and pressed upward with her already bloody blade. It buried into his chest, even as his sword own sunk into her side.

The other angel's scream covered the sound of her own cry. The grace burned out of his eyes and he collapsed to one side of the little girl's body, shadows of wings imprinted on the grass.

Naomi knew he was dead, but everything else went hazy as she dropped her blade and closed her eyes. She still couldn't trust anyone in Heaven. There was a traitor and she wouldn't know until she got Barabbas' body back to her office to examine his mind. Never mind that now, because she was injured. Blood and grace leaked from the wound on her side and she struggled to heal it even as she lay in the dew covered garden. Alone.

Mycroft watched the entire thing from the library window, blue eyes wide in amazement. His short experience with a fencing foil seemed, appropriately enough, like child's play when compared to Naomi's technique with a blade. She was very skilled. He watched her plunge her angel blade into Barabbas' body, and the life drain from his body until a pair of wings appeared as if burned on the ground.

He deduced the angel must've been dead because he wasn't getting up. And then Naomi wasn't getting up either. He debated whether or not it was safe to go out of the house, but continue observation told him no one else was coming. Naomi was vulnerable. If anyone else wanted to attack her, now was the time, but no one was forthcoming.

Finally, he climbed off the couch he'd used to prop himself up against the window and raced outside in hopes of aiding her. "Naomi?"

The fog lifted over her mind when the small voice hit her ears. Naomi opened her eyes to catch sight of the young boy running towards her. One of her hands strayed to her side to cover up the leaking wound and she struggled to sit up. "Mycroft?" She answered breathlessly, making it as far as propping herself up on her elbow. Her unseen wings were limp behind her, but undamaged. She tried a smile and it softened her otherwise sharp and hurting features. "We're safe. It's over."

"And you?" Mycroft knelt beside her but didn't touch her, afraid he'd inadvertently hurt her. He wasn't sure how angel physiology worked, but he'd seen her take the hit and he wasn't keen about causing her anymore pain. His wide blue eyes met hers. "Are you okay? Do you need me to do anything?"

"I'll live." She answered. She glanced down at the wound, making a bit of a face as she covered it with her hand again. "Perhaps we can go inside. I'll need more time. Time to heal, and plan."

"Alright, come on." Mycroft moved in to put an arm around her and help her up. "Everyone is still sleeping, but they'll be up soon. You can take my room today."

"Thank you." Naomi said, her words carrying her gratitude. They slipped into the house after a slow walk across the grass. Upon reaching his room, she lowered herself with his help in a controlled collapse into the bed. "I won't bother you too much longer." She said, curling up on herself. "I just need to heal."

"There's no hurry," Mycroft said quickly and then caught himself. "And by that I mean, I've liked having someone to talk to besides my brother. Take as long as you need to heal. It's no bother." He drew the covers over her and tucked her in, the way his mum had done for him when he'd been just a tiny bit younger.

Naomi's smile was curious and she let herself be tucked in like the child she looked like. "Can I keep you?" She asked.

Mycroft smiled to himself. "Only if I get to keep you too," he replied in all seriousness.

There was a bit of a pause as she sobered, just slightly. "You wouldn't want me. I'm not a pleasant individual."

Mycroft finished tucking her in and met her eyes. "You seem pleasant enough to me," he said honestly. "That's as good a reason as any to keep you, isn't it?"

"Perhaps." Naomi reached for his hand, using the connection to open up his mind. She was so very careful with the potential of the young child's mind. And swift as she could, she shifted her perception to take in the extra-dimensional nature of her wings. Not in their full glory, not in the entirety of her divine nature, but like birds wings as they appeared in a human vessel.

Mycroft's eyes went wide at the sight in front of him. "Wow," he breathed. He'd seen paintings and illustrations of angels' wings before, but they didn't really compare to the real thing. These looked impossibly soft and almost grey. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers through the feathers, but resisted the urge. "Amazing."

"I could have shown you my claws." Naomi said, slowly letting go of his hand. Her wings shifted. The feathers made heavy rustling noises as she draped it over the both like a canopy. "I am soft feathers and sharp talons, I am war and peace, and beauty and terror." She paused, a smile growing on her young face. "Just thought you should know what you're getting yourself into."

"I think the..." Mycroft trailed off, furrowing his brown in concentration while he searched for the word he'd learned not too long ago. He wasn't sure if he was using it correctly in this instance, but there was really only one way to learn. "Dichotomy is what makes it interesting." He paused. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being my friend," he answered honestly. "You didn't have to be, but you were anyway."

"If this is friendship, I don't mind at all."

Naomi didn't take away his ability to see her wings. It would fade in time though, the human mind wasn't meant to sustain that. She curled up and put herself in a healing meditation for the better part of the day. And by the time Violet Holmes was serving up dinner, Naomi was up and about.

She stayed the night, speaking quietly with Mycroft into the wee hours of the morning. She watched with quiet amusement at the young boy got tired, eventually sending him to bed with a promise of being there in the morning.

By the time the sun rose again, Naomi was nearly healed and ready to go back to Heaven. There was work to do, so much, and she couldn't stay away any longer. She stood on the grass in the garden, wings tucked behind her and eyes on the Sunday morning sun.

Mycroft stepped out of the house to join her, having dressed for the occasion in a grey jumper, white shirt and black trousers. He smoothed his hair as he came to a stop, and slid his hands into his pockets. "Time to go then?"

"Yes." Naomi answered. She smiled softly at him. "The girl will continue without memory of this and I will return to Heaven. And you? Do you want to remember?"

Mycroft remembered when she'd asked him that question only a short while ago. He'd given it some consideration, and he'd arrived at his answer the night before while they were engaged in quiet conversation. "I want to remember," he announced.

"I will grant it."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I think there's a fair chance. Someday I'll come back." Naomi closed the distance between them, meeting his eyes."But if you ever need me, if the need is too great for you to handle alone, just pray for me by name. I will hear you." She promised. There was a bit of a hesitation, but she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. A human gesture of affection for her new human friend.

Mycroft wasn't used to pecks on the cheek from anyone other than his mother, but from Naomi it still made him smile. "What was that for?"

"Curiosity." She answered with an enigmatic smile. "And for being my friend."

His smile grew. "You're welcome." He paused uncertainly. "I think that's what I'm supposed to say."

"If it is, I wouldn't know." Naomi opened up her wings. "Good bye, Mycroft. Until we meet again."

"Until we meet again."

Mycroft watched Naomi vanish with the body and felt his shoulders sag ever so slightly. He understood she had to go, but the short amount of time he'd had her as a friend he'd felt adequate maybe for the first time in his life. He doubted he'd feel that way ever again. And in later years, he'd take that inadequacy and transform it into armor cold as ice.

For now, however, he had a brother to see to and reading to do. He turned towards the house without another word.


	4. 1992, part 1

Mycroft Holmes was all of twenty-two years old and sitting at his brand new desk at the Prime Minister's office. He was fresh out of university, but on his way to reaching his self-appointed goals. He'd procured this particular position as Advisor well before graduation.

Over the years, he'd thought of Naomi often. Her advice had been valuable and he'd taken it to heart. He was confident his intelligence and ambition would see him through whatever challenges lay ahead, but every now and then, he couldn't help wondering.

Currently, he found himself studying the economic outlook of several countries and making notes. He was alone in the office, but that wasn't unusual when he was working late, as he so often was. He'd take off his suit coat and hung it over the back of his chair once everyone had gone home for good. In only his shirt, waistcoat and trousers, he still looked polished but felt slightly more comfortable.

The decade and a bit had been a busy one for Naomi. Top secret information, wars to instigate, demons to squash, angels to keep from asking questions, a heavenly host to keep in tune. There'd been no major plague this decade, and she didn't have one scheduled until the turn of the millennia. However, she did have business on earth.

The vessel she'd recently acquired was young, mid-twenties, with striking blue eyes and a slim frame. Her long brown hair was wavy, so she pulled it back into a french twist with a diamond studded pin. She put her new body in a black suit with a light blue dress shirt, and heels to match. She had enforced the professional dress of angels centuries ago, after all. She liked it that way.

She'd kept tabs on Mycroft Holmes since she left all those years ago, watching from a distance as he grew up. He was a curious and unique individual. One she wanted to know and keep safe, as opposed to the five and a half billion other humans on the planet. Still, she waited for the right time. And after twelve years it was time to make contact again. She walked right into his office, as if she belonged there. Clasping her hands in front of herself, she smiled enigmatically and said, "hello Mycroft."

Mycroft tore his eyes away from his notebook to study his unexpected visitor, pen hesitating above the page. His deductive skills had improved at an accelerated rate over the years, a product of constant practice and study, but he still found himself coming up empty. She didn't work for the Prime Minister, of that he was certain. He'd made it a point to acquaint himself with everyone who did, and he never forgot even the smallest detail unless he meant to. Beyond that, he could deduce nothing else beyond the fact that she knew him and that she was, if her accent was anything to go by, American. Or pretending to be.

Straightening his in chair, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Hello," he said first, polite as ever. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage here, as I don't know you the way you seem to know me. Can I help you?"

Naomi took it upon herself to sit down, crossing one long leg over the other and folding her hands in her lap. "Yes, I believe you can. It's a simple matter to bring to your attention, but I felt I needed to do it personally." She paused, rustling her wings ever so slightly. "It's been a long time, but you do know me. I was hoping you'd remember."

It was the quiet sound of rustling feathers that did it for him, and for a moment he wasn't sure he knew what to say. He dropped his pen altogether and clasped his hands on top of his desk, leaning forward almost unconsciously. He smiled. "Naomi," he said quietly. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

"I understand you must have thought that." She replied. "But I never intended to stay away forever. It's been a busy decade."

"I can only imagine." Mycroft held her gaze for a silent moment. Her vessel's blue eyes were a different shade, but still so very familiar. It was an odd thing, but comforting in the fact that it was still her. He wondered what she saw in him now. He'd found such comfort in her presence a decade ago, if only for a few days, and it was a comfort he hadn't experienced since. Until now.

He stood from his desk and walked round to perch on the edge in front of her, clasping his hands in front of him. "Would you..." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps like to discuss it over a cup of tea? I'm not sure how long you plan on staying this time."

"Tea." Naomi repeated. "Yes, I think I could try a cup of tea." She decided, as if that human custom hadn't quite crossed her mind in twelve years. "As for how long I'm staying, I do not know. One night is what I can promise, if you don't mind the company."

"One night is sufficient," he assured her. "I was very nearly finished here, and... well, I suppose I'm simply happy to once again be in your company."

"I'll consider that a compliment. And return it in full." Naomi stood up from her chair, graceful as ever even with the new body. "Now, for what I came to do." She said as she closed the distance and put her hand on his chest, over his heart. Anti-possession sigils. She smiled slightly, leaving her hand there. "You were going to be the target of a demon faction wanting to insert themselves in governments around the world. One I intend to destroy. You'll be safe from possession now, and I will be keeping an eye out, as they say."

The process was painless, but Mycroft found himself unconsciously covering Naomi's hand with his own against his chest. He met her eyes, yet again attempting to deduce her. He was not as surprised by the statement as he should've been. Naomi's visit over a decade before had sparked a curiosity in him that he satisfied with study. He was, however, developing a new kind of curiosity. One he'd avoided for a very long time but seemed almost natural now.

"Thank you," he said first, and cleared his throat to try again. "Thank you," he repeated more firmly. "Is there anything specific I should watch out for?"

"Black eyes, someone flicking their hand to throw you into a wall, knives stabbed in your back. Your skills at observation will be your advantage to spot a demon." Naomi replied, removing her hand and stepping away again to give him space. "Now, I think we mentioned tea. I'll admit, it's been twelve years since I've had it. Are you able to go now, or should I return later?"

"Now is fine," he assured her, and rose to his feet. "I just need to secure these documents, and then we can leave. I'll only be a moment." He walked round his desk and made quick work of putting everything away, neatly organized. Once everything was tidy and all sensitive information was secured, he donned his suit coat and buttoned up. "Would my flat suit you, or shall we go someplace else?"

"Your flat would give us privacy, which I prefer if we're discussing Heavenly or personal matters." Naomi said. After a short exchange of the exact location, she slipped her hand into his and flew them off to his flat.

Mycroft honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd held hands with anyone. He thought perhaps it might've been Sherlock. He'd never felt the need to hold hands with anyone else. "Very convenient," he commented once he'd gotten his bearings. "I'll go put the kettle on."

His flat wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was very neat and chock-full of books. Hardwood floors. Well-preserved brick walls. Mycroft had always been an avid reader and over the course of a decade he'd acquired many leather-bound copies of his favorite tomes. Bookshelves lined the entryway, with two dark brown leather couches in between. To his right, down a wide hallway that doubled as dining room, was the kitchen.

Naomi let him go, slipping her hands back in her pockets. She moved to his extensive bookshelves to browse. Her fingers strayed over leather-bound versions of many classics. "You've done well, Mycroft, as I knew you would." She said. "But I am glad to see it."

Mycroft smiled to himself as he picked up the kettle, holding it under the faucet to fill it with water. "You gave me excellent advice, once upon a time," he called back. "I listened. What of yourself?"

"Nothing about my job has changed in almost two thousand years." She answered. "But there's been ups and downs. For the moment…" she trailed of in thought, speaking again after a second, "everything is going according to plan."

"I don't suppose that is a plan you can divulge." Leaving the water to boil, he stepped out of the kitchen and removed his suit coat. "At any rate, I'm glad you found the time to warn and protect me from possible demonic possession. I... thought about praying," he confessed. "Several times over the years."

"I thought about visiting, but I though distance would be better as you grew up." Naomi echoed, turning towards him again. "You're a unique individual, your intelligence is unmatched. I haven't found a human worth speaking to in  _many_  years." She paused. "Nor one that appreciates my company as you seem to. You still aren't afraid."

"No," Mycroft confirmed with a subtle nod of his head, draping his suit coat over the back of a chair. "I recognize your power, of course, and your unquestionable skill. But I admire it. I appreciate it." He stepped towards her. "And I find most people don't appreciate my company the way you do either."

"The curse of being spectacularly intelligent, I'm sure." She replied. "Do you mind if I…visit more frequently? If only for a mutual appreciation of company and conversation."

"I wouldn't mind at all," Mycroft assured her quickly. "Visit as often as you like. I work late hours, but I'm sure that won't present a problem." He gestured for her to join him in the kitchen. "You'll find my conversational skills have improved since last time."

Naomi drifted into the kitchen. "I knew something was different." She said, but the smirk on her face indicated it was an almost tease. "And here I'd thought it was just that you'd gotten taller. I look forward to it."

"Not just taller," he assured her in humor. "I've also bettered my skills with a blade, even if I've given up the eye-patch and pirate hat."

"I don't mind that at all, I prefer your current look." Naomi smiled fully at him, the expression completely natural on her vessel's face. "Very professional. I'll have to see evidence of your bettered skills."

Mycroft exhaled a laugh, retrieving a set of tea cups and saucers from the cupboard. "Nowhere near your level of skill, to be sure," he felt the need to add. "But certainly better than when I was ten." He set the cups down and smiled. "And I take the first as a compliment. Your vessel... I think the current one suits you better as well."

Her smile didn't waver. "That's good to hear, I find I like this vessel. It's a more recent acquisition. Probably better for engaging in a friendly spar, but I haven't tested it out quite yet."

"I suppose we'll have to engage in an experiment," Mycroft replied in intellectual curiosity. "See how your vessel fares against mine in a sparring match."

"I'll put it on the list to do."

Mycroft poured the tea and hesitated over Naomi's cup, unsure of her preferences. He'd noticed the brief pause before, in his office, as if she hadn't engaged in this activity in many years. Choosing to go with familiarity, he made her tea similar to his and offered her the cup. He walked with her to his dining table.

"I'll draw up a list," he continued. "As I'm sure we'll find more to add in your coming visits." He eyed her briefly, remembering their last goodbye so many years before. "I'm so very glad you're here, Naomi."

Naomi settled in one of the chairs and took an experimental sip of tea. The flavor was intense, but she didn't mind. Her fingers curled around the small cup and she smiled over the steaming tea at him. "I am as well. It is a pity I stayed away for so many years, a mistake I do not intend to make again." She paused thoughtfully. "Now, shall I tell you of a few of my exploits this last decade? Perhaps following the fall of Barabbas first."

"Yes, if you don't mind," Mycroft answered readily. "I'll return the favor in kind, even if my exploits are not nearly as exciting."

"Oh, I look forward to them."


	5. 1992, part 2

Mycroft and Naomi spent the next few hours sharing stories, talking long into the evening until two rounds of tea went cold and they'd moved over to a couch.

Naomi had abandoned her black jacket and Mycroft rolled his sleeves up. The angel's expression was pleasant, and curious, if readable, and she asked questions about his work. Which he answered in turn. Naomi's answers about the more delicate and less pleasant nature of her work were mentioned, but left vague. She still had a passing fear that this curious human would find her terrifying and unsettling. But the evidence pointed to the contrary.

"It sounds like your career is really accelerating well." She commented after another story came to an end. "What about your brother? How is he?"

"Sherlock is doing well, but he... struggles with focus," Mycroft said honestly. "He's very gifted, intellectually, and very few things hold his attention for very long. I fear he might lose his way if I don't keep an eye on him."

"I'm sure you will do all you can to keep him on the path." She replied, but turned her eyes to her clasped hands for a moment of thought. "Sometimes there's only so much one can do for a wayward sibling."

Mycroft studied her for several seconds. "You say that from experience?"

"Too much experience." Naomi said, catching his eye again. "Drastic measures sometimes need to be taken with angels that do not obey, like Barabbas. But he was an extreme case, it happens for the little things too. Sometimes I think…I think we've lost our way. The mission we were charged with. I'm in a state of…reconsideration and self-evaluation."

"You think you've strayed from your original purpose." Mycroft's brows pulled together and without giving it much thought, he reached over and placed his hand on top of hers in reassurance. "I'm sure you'll find your way eventually and do what is necessary to rectify any possible mistakes, if there is indeed anything to be rectified."

Naomi turned one of her hands in his to hold it. "You're right. In any case, in the angel hierarchy, one must be careful, order doesn't change over night." Her lips turned in a little smile. "But I think this is a good start."

"Indeed." Mycroft squeezed her hand and met her eyes. "May I try something?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Consider me intrigued. Yes, you may."

Over a decade before, Naomi had given him a kiss on the cheek out of curiosity and gratitude for his friendship. Mycroft's intent this time was similar. Curiosity and gratitude, not only for her friendship, but for the promise of future encounters and a future where he didn't feel quite so alone.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips ever so gently against hers in his first true and proper kiss. He didn't attempt anything further before pulling away, somewhat nervously meeting her eyes. "I hope that was alright."

"Completely." Naomi said, smiling to reassure him. It was a curious human experience she'd dabbled in in the past. She was so drawn to Mycroft, it made sense to try again. "And you can be assured we will do that again." Without further ado, she slipped her fingers into his hair behind his head and brought him in for another kiss, this one gentle but purposeful.

Mycroft hadn't anticipated he'd be allowed more than one kiss, but recovered quickly. He let Naomi's hand go and tentatively reached up to cup her face. Her skin was warm and smooth. He couldn't stop himself from stroking her cheek with his thumb, sliding closer on the couch to deepen the contact to the best of his ability. Fortunately, this seemed to be one of those things where quite a bit of instinct was involved. He made use of his significant intellect to fill in the gaps.

Naomi took full advantage of his curiosity. Same as she did twelve years ago, she unlocked the ability to perceive her extra-dimensional wings. Her fingers carded through his hair and she scooted closer to him. She was floating. Intrigued. And brushing the humanity angels were denied. Wings curled around the two of them, heavy whispers as the feathers moved. She only broke it when she thought he needed to breathe.

"Is this all right?" She echoed, lingering nearby. "You must tell me if I over-step."

"No no no," Mycroft assured her quickly, momentarily distracted by the large grey wings encircling them both. "This is perfectly alright. I'm... well, I'm afraid I'm inexperienced, so you must tell me if there's something else you need me to do." His eyes drifted back to her face and down to her lips. He kissed them again, all but leaning forward to be as near her as possible. "You are phenomenal," he breathed when he pulled away.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. "I'm glad you think so." She said, gratefully, as if she'd never heard that before. Her vessel's heart beat with his, the fast drumming of the muscle pounded in her chest. Blue eyes met again. "You're exceptional yourself. And many years ago you asked to keep me and I accepted.  _All_  of me is yours. Whatever you wish to do or experience or talk about with me, intimate or not, I'm willing."

Mycroft blinked quickly at her declaration, studying her for clues. "I'm... I'm not sure what else I want other than to keep kissing you at the moment," he said sheepishly. "When I say I'm inexperienced, I mean it in every sense of the word. This... sort of thing has never come up before, aside from books and research."

Naomi's smile grew and she stole a quick kiss. "It's fine, Mycroft. Intimacy would be a gift to you, a shared experience." Her eyes sparkled in affection and her wings shifted slightly. "In the future, if you find yourself curious, the offer will stand. I'm not going anywhere."

Mycroft cleared his throat a little nervously. He didn't know how to convey that he wanted her but that he wasn't quite sure how to go about it without a little guidance. Admitting he didn't know something was still a little difficult for him. "I... wouldn't be opposed to attempting it now, if you're not opposed to teaching," he tried again.

"It's been near three thousand years, I might be a little rusty." Naomi said, her expression unchanging, but she loosened her hold from around him. Only to give him space. "I won't push you, whatever you want, I am yours." Pause. "Unbutton my shirt, if you wish?"

Sitting up a little straighter, Mycroft studied her for the space of a few seconds. He could feel the anticipatory rush and the warmth of acceptance simmering under his skin. He wondered for those seconds how he'd gotten to this wondrous, awe-inspiring moment. He'd done nothing to deserve it and yet here it was, like a gift.

He exhaled slowly and tentatively reached out to undo the buttons of her shirt, popping one after the other until he'd reveal a slice of creamy skin. His fingertips grazed against her belly and he met her eyes. "I want this," he assured her. "I want  _you._ "

Naomi shrugged off the light blue shirt and let it drop to the ground without further ado. "Until you no longer want me, you may have me." She said, splaying her hands on his chest. "Kiss me." She said next. "And I'll take care of the brassiere."

Mycroft obeyed readily, gripping her waist with one hand to bring her closer and cupped her face with the other. He caught her lips in a gentle kiss, soft and exploratory this time to savor the moment. "I doubt there will come a time when I won't want you," he began after he broke away. "In any case... it might be the exact opposite."

"I can't be a human mate, I won't be around often, I can't settle down with you." Naomi said. She'd dropped the lacy bra on the ground as well, but held his gaze as her fingers worked on the top buttons of his shirt. "This…existence is dangerous and opens up a whole world you're only just scratched the surface of. But I can promise protection and safety, and adventure of lifetimes."

Mycroft's eyes were on hers, chest rising and falling beneath her hands. "I love my job, but it's busy and I work long hours," he returned. "I don't want a human mate who will settle down with me. I want you, whenever and however I can get you. Talks. Kissing.  _This._  I will be as yours as you are mine if you'll have me."

Naomi's wings flared showily, and she flew them to his bedroom. "We have an agreement then. We'll work out the specifics later." She decided, pulling back from him only to slip out of her trousers. She then straddled his lap. Her hand slipped under his half open shirt, reverently smoothing over warm skin. She wanted to say it then,  _aziazor. S_ he wanted to say words that would appropriate encompass what drew her to him.  _Soon_. She'd tell him soon.

She kissed him slowly, reaching to pull his hands over to touch her. "I want you. Let me guide you?"

Mycroft allowed his eyes and hands to stray, gentle and reverent. "You're beautiful," he breathed first, and finally met her eyes. "Show me."

They took their time the exploring this new side of their relationship, slowly and tenderly covering every inch of uncharted skin. The rest of their clothes disappeared and so did the rest of the world, leaving them in their own little bubble of safety, intimacy and wonder. From beginning to end, it all felt very much like gift. From their first meeting so many years before to a tentative kiss on the lips, and now a night of acceptance and companionship.

They curled up in each other's arms afterwards, Naomi's fingers lightly tracing his back and her wings wrapping them in a cocoon of soft feathers. Mycroft breathed hard, face buried in her hair. His heart pounded in his chest. "I have no words," he announced quietly, between breaths.

"The words may come eventually, I'm sure you're tired." She pressed her lips against his cheek. "I'll stay with you tonight. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," Mycroft agreed without hesitation. "It's been quite a long time since we've spoken. I intend to make the most of the time we have." He paused momentarily. "Was that... satisfactory for you?"

"Yes." Naomi assured him. "As much as it can be as an angel, my experiences with this are different than a human's. It's difficult to explain in detail, and I won't bore you with it." She shifted them slightly on the bed, tightening her wings around them. "But yes, you did well. And with some repeated practice, we will only improve."

Mycroft couldn't help a bit of a smile. "I only intend to practice with you," he informed her, and lifted one of his hands to her wings. Touching them felt as intimate as what they'd just done, so he stopped short. "May I?"

Naomi smiled as well, closing her eyes in a moment of reflection. "All of me is yours, yes you may," she breathed.

He closed the distance with his hand and ran his fingertips over the feathers. They were impossibly soft to the touch and grey, but there was no doubt in his mind that they were formidably resilient. She was formidably resilient and these were a part of her, so it stood to reason. He met her blue eyes and smiled. "Exquisite," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"Anything for you." She said in the same tone, stealing another promising kiss.

Naomi stayed the night with him, holding him while they talked quietly until he drifted off to sleep. In the hours of silence, she studied his face with admiration and fascination. Intelligent, wise, organized, practical, pragmatic, curious, passionate, steadfast. He was the epitome of what humanity should be, in her mind. And he was hers.

It was a thought that she'd keep safe with her after she left in the morning. Back to Heaven and her angels, back to work.


	6. 1992, part 3

A couple weeks later, Naomi worked her schedule and cleared the dungeons of Heaven so that she had almost a whole weekend to spend on her own. Which meant she was going to spend it with her human. It was the way this would go, of course. She couldn't stay with him, nor could he stay with her. Theirs would be a relationship of rare visits.

She flew away from her office in Heaven and landed in his otherwise empty flat. On the way, she changed from her buttoned up suit into a black evening dress. Lacy, off the shoulder sleeves, empire waist. The dress shone with a refined elegance that befitted an angel queen. She timed her arrival to coincide with when he'd get off of work. She had plans, of course, and intended to steal him away from the familiarity of London.

Mycroft arrived at precisely the same time he always did, wearing his customary three piece-suit and coat. He'd chosen an elegant black pinstripe this time with a contrasting red silk tie. Opening the door, he deposited his umbrella in its rightful place underneath the coat rack and fixed his eyes on Naomi. He took the sight of her in as he closed the door, smiling ever so faintly.

"I believe the fitting word here is 'beautiful," he said by way of greeting. "Special occasion?"

Naomi stepped towards him, a smile on her face and her wings folded neatly behind her. "I have the whole weekend free, baring any divine emergencies. If you're so inclined, and have the time, I believe starting with a trip out might be appropriate."

Mycroft ran through his list of obligations in his head, but his weekend was equally free. He didn't anticipate any emergencies that would require his immediate attention. "I am very much inclined and I do have the time." He closed the distance between them for a kiss on the lips. "Do I need to change?"

Naomi looked him up and down. "If you wish too, but you look fantastic. It's only dinner and walk. I simply thought I'd…" she smoothed a hand down the black gown, "dress for the occasion. I find little need to do so otherwise."

"Then I am fortunate you've found the occasion with me," Mycroft replied in an effort to compliment. "You truly do look beautiful." He cast a cursory glance at his umbrella, but decided to leave it. He offered Naomi his arm. "Shall we, then?"

"Only for you." Naomi took his arm and snapped her wings. Moments later they'd landed on the streets of Rome. The sun had set, and the street lights lit up the cobblestones and Italian-style buildings. Rome wasn't unfamiliar to her, but she still found an interest and aesthetic draw to parts of the city.

Naomi kept her arm in Mycroft's, folded her wings, and started walking down the relatively empty streets. Her heels clicked on the ground, and she spoke quietly. "There is a delightful place to eat further down the street, I thought perhaps you might enjoy that."

"Absolutely, so long as I am in your company." Mycroft covered her hand on his arm with his and cast his eyes over the beautiful architecture. "It must be curious, for an angel to visit Rome, steeped in religious history as it is."

"I've been here a few times, yes." Naomi said thoughtfully, eyes not on the buildings but on him. "Several of the wars and major events here had our handiwork in them, and I met with Nero personally. I had soldiers stationed here through the fall of this empire. It was quite the center of attention for many centuries. As for my curiosity, I have seen the entirety of human civilization rise from the dirt." She paused. "Times change, centers of history change, and life moves forward. I generally don't dwell."

"As always," he agreed. "It is the one universal truth, is it not? Life always moves forward." He brought his attention back to her. "Our lives are but the blink of an eye to you. I can't imagine it."

"Very few can. Even angels forget how old they are at times. You're not wrong, humans live, have children, and die. The cycle continues and I barely give it a second glance." She paused again. "But once and while, I find my eye back on humanity. For you do much in your years. It's admirable."

"We have so little time that we must, necessarily, make good use of it," he said. "At least those of us with enough sense to recognize our limits, physical or otherwise. I try to be self aware and I've taught my brother the same." He squeezed her hand on his arm. "I feel privileged to have caught your attention."

"Privileged, but not undeserving." Naomi replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I admire you. One of the benefits,for you, being in my company, is the gift of a longer life, should you chose it. And by longer life, I mean centuries, not decades, never having to worry about disease or frailty or death."

"A very generous and attractive offer," Mycroft said gratefully and thoughtfully. "A gift, truly. I wouldn't turn it down, of course. There is so much I could do during that length of time. I suppose, like everything, I'd have to consider the benefits and the drawbacks." He glanced at her again. "One of the benefits would be you, of course. Assuming you don't grow tired of my company."

"I believe we've only scratched the surface of what we can show and learn from each other. There is so much more." She replied confidently. "The day I grow tired of your company is a long ways off. Assuming you don't come to fear me in the meantime."

Mycroft smiled faintly and turned his eyes to the cobblestone path ahead. "If that is your primary concern, I can assure you, the day is a long ways off as well. I am not blind to your power, but so long as you do not use it against me or those I hold dear, I will not fear you," he promised.

Naomi smiled back at him, lingering gaze on his profile until she tipped her head back to look at the stars. Perhaps in time she would share the less desirable parts of her history. Not tonight. "I am grateful. And I will only use my power for your protection and wellbeing. I prefer to keep your strong heart beating."

Mycroft observed her in the moonlight, with the light of a lamp post occasionally highlighting her profile. "I do enjoy a beating heart," he said in humor, but quickly sobered. "I'm very fortunate to have you in my life, Naomi."

"And simply due to an unexpected crash landing near your neighbor's house." She replied, a smile hinting at nostalgia on her face. "It is a blessing indeed. Serendipity even, perhaps."

He smiled again. "An appropriate word for it, I think. Whatever the reason, the outcome is more than I could've hoped for," he said earnestly. "I am a better man, having met you."

Naomi stopped them on the street. She used her free hand to cradle his head and bring them together for another kiss. Soft and grateful. In time, she would hope to be a better angel, a better being, because of her interactions with him. When she pulled away, she smiled and straightened her ruffled feathers. "And we've only just begun."

"Then I look forward to the future." Mycroft stole another kiss, short but lingering, and walked the remaining distance to the the restaurant with Naomi's hand tucked into the crook of his arm.

Over a bottle of wine, in a room lit by the soft glow of candlelight, they discussed history, religion and philosophy. It wasn't often that Mycroft engaged in such stimulating conversation with someone he found aesthetically pleasing, intellectually intriguing and personally curious. He reveled in every minute of it. In the companionship, acceptance and mutual admiration. And after they watched the sun rise on a rooftop in Rome, they flew back to his flat to enjoy each other's company in the new and intimate way they'd only recently discovered with each other.

The rest of the weekend, Naomi's eyes often strayed to his face, to his hand, to his chest where his heart beat a steady rhythm, to his cold blue eyes. She felt an intense sense of possessiveness with this human.

The emotions she took away from other angels were very much a part of her. She needed them, to make decisions that were both logical and appropriate, to understand the gamut of what other angels could experience, to be better at making the army solid and sure. However her self-discipline was unmatched as far as controlling those emotions. Allowing herself to dip into the emotions was an indulgence, rare and unexpected. She was sure this would work, sure that her actions would get looked over and her plans would fall into place. That she could indulge in the brightness of humanity that was Mycroft Holmes, as well as use her skill set for the betterment of Heaven. She could have it all.

It wasn't often she was wrong.


	7. 1992, part 4

Mycroft was working late again at the Prime Minister's office. He'd discarded his suit coat and rolled up his sleeves this time, and the last of his cooling coffee sat in a mug not too far away. Over the last week, he'd detected warning signs of impending conflict in a country the British Government dealt with on a regular basis, and he'd determined to look into the situation once official office hours ceased.

He much preferred silence and solitude when he needed to think. He was making notes on his moleskin notebook when the lights flickered in his office and plunged it into momentary darkness. It wasn't just his office either. He could see through the window that the lights outside had dimmed similarly.

Brows pulled together, he sat up and rose from his chair with the intention of investigating.

Blue electricity sparkled off the walls as the presence made itself known, appearing out of nowhere and without a sound. The archangel was in a male vessel, at least six and a half feet tall, with dark brown skin, darker brown eyes, and endless wings of electric blue and shocking white that practically glowed in the dark room. His expression serious, he himself completely still, as if he was a fixed point in the room. "Mycroft Holmes." The Archangel of the Lord, said in a deep voice. "Where is she?"

Mycroft knew immediately the 'she' he was referring to, but her current location was a mystery. Even if it hadn't been, he wasn't inclined to give it away so freely, regardless of whom he was addressing. He straightened to his full height and dropped his pen on his desk, focusing on the man's eyes instead of the impressive wings stretching behind him. "I've never been inclined to play games, so I won't pretend not to know whom you speak of. Naomi isn't here. I have no idea where she is. Is there, perhaps, something else I can help you with?"

"Perhaps." Lightning cracked outside as the angel-induced thunderstorm grew in intensity over London. Raphael extended his hand towards Mycroft and made a squeezing motion.

Mycroft was slower to grasp what was happening than he would've liked. He brought a hand to his chest and stumbled back against his chair, the back of his thighs nudging it further away. He couldn't breathe, regardless of how many times his mouth gaped for air. His heart felt a second away from exploding. His ribs cracked beneath the unseen pressure of Raphael's fist.

He was going to die. The realization was sudden and panic-inducing. He was going to die, and there would be no more weekends with Naomi, no more Christmas dinners with his family, sneaky cigarettes with his brother or arguments over the phone. Funny that it wasn't his work that came to mind in that moment. He wasn't ready to leave the rest, the things that mattered to him, behind.

Wide blue eyes sought out Raphael's face, but he drew on all his strength to pray for another angel. "Naomi," he wheezed.

Naomi landed in a blur of grey feathers, black suit, and bursting white-gold light. Like a star itself had made an appearance inside the government office. In retaliation, Raphael threw Mycroft into the wall.

"Stop! Do not harm him, Raphael!" Naomi's voice said with as much authority as she could muster against the impossible force of the archangel. Her eyes glowed white and her wings spread out in full glory. She didn't take her angel blade out, for it'd be useless against an archangel anyways, but she did fly to Mycroft's side. Naomi stood as a barrier between him and Raphael. "You will stop!"

"You will learn your own lesson, Naomi." The archangel's voice spoke in the growing light from the angel.

Raphael squeezed his hand again to take more life from Mycroft, so Naomi acted. Throwing her body to cover Mycroft's, she wrapped him in her arms and whispered an Enochian incantation in his ear. One that would mask him from Raphael and instead transfer it to her own body instead. Her wings draped around him like a sanctuary of soft grey feathers to block out the electricity that had crackled through the room again. She would not let him die. She could  _not_ watch that happen.

Mycroft gulped air like water the moment he felt the pressure surrounding his chest give way. His attention shifted to Naomi within the next second, and his mind raced to understand what she'd done. He'd heard the incantation and recognized it as Enochian but didn't know the meaning.

"Naomi," he spoke to her within the safety of her wings, cradling the back of her head in one hand. "Are you alright?"

Her vessel was in protest of the immense pain and she couldn't speak. But sacrifices had to be made if he was going to survive, her vessel would heal and she could handle the pain. She put her forehead to his and spoke in his mind rather than with words that wouldn't come out of bursting lungs.  _"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."_

"No, no, no," Mycroft spoke out loud and stole a glance at Raphael just past her shoulder. " _We'll talk when this is over. What can I do? Let me help you_ ," he thought at her, rather than speak it out loud. " _We'll get through this together_."

Naomi had so much to tell him, so much to share, so much to do. But there wasn't time. She knew Raphael personally, she answered directly to him. She knew what he commanded be done to angels that stray. She was no different, apparently.  _"You will survive. I promised."_ She said, feeling a trickle from her eye and down her cheek. She didn't know if it was blood or tears.  _"I'm sorry for what will come. Ol aziazor elasa."_ The Enochian declaration of love echoed through their minds.

"You must abstain from these human distractions, Naomi." Raphael said, having lowered his hand to release the pressure on her.

Mycroft ignored Raphael completely and pulled Naomi with bruising force to his chest. He almost knew what would come and he refused to accept it. He wasn't about to lose her there was still so much left undone. So much left unsaid. He'd never told her in the most important terms how much she meant to him, had he? He'd never revealed the full extent of his feelings for her. "Stay with me," he requested out loud. "Please, stay with me." He swallowed and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I love you."

Naomi sucked in a breath and let out a quiet sob. "Mycroft, I lo-" She started, but she wouldn't get the chance to finish. For Raphael was suddenly there, his hand on her back between her wings.

"Go home, Naomi, we will discuss your punishment in detail there." The Archangel said quietly, even as he pulled her out of the human body she occupied.

Naomi clung to her vessel in a struggle of flapping wings and a gust of wind, but it was no use. Her white-gold essence streamed out of the young woman. Naomi spiraled up, crashing through the window until she disappeared into the lightning streaked firmament. Her broken vessel died as soon as she was gone, the body slumping against Mycroft's chest.

"Naomi?" Mycroft shook her body as if he could bring her back through will alone. "Naomi!" His eyes darted to Raphael's face, fierce and blue and unfathomably cold. He knew the archangel's power but right then he didn't care. "What did you do? Where did she go?"

"She went home, to Heaven. Where she belongs." Raphael said, still crouching in front of the human. His dark eyes didn't waver from Mycroft's face as he removed his hand from the dead woman. "The moment you see her again will be your last on Earth."

In a crackle of electricity and clap of thunder, Raphael vanished.

Later, when he replayed the memory in his head for the tenth, hundredth, thousandth,  _millionth_  time, all Mycroft would remember of those first few seconds on his own, in his office, would be the quiet. He could hear, distantly, faint traces of rolling thunder. He could hear his ragged breathing and his pounding heart, but it was all muted, like his ears were filled with cotton.

He lowered his eyes slowly, to Naomi's face, or rather her vessel's face, so still and heavy in his arms, and gently smoothed the hair away from her forehead. Everything was still dark, but the moon peeking through the clouds and window cast a soft glow over her features.

Everything hit him all at once. The realization. The pain. The reality that Naomi would never be coming back to him, because if she did, he'd never survive it. His breath hitched in his throat and his body folded in on itself, racked with quiet sobs. He couldn't stop. He couldn't let her go. He couldn't even begin to contemplate the arduous process of loosening his fingers, relaxing his arms and letting her slide out of his grip. He  _wouldn't._

"Oh, God..." He buried his face in her hair and held her to his chest in a vice. No one would walk in on him for hours. No one would see him, broken, confused and hurting. He'd compose himself by then and do what needed to be done, but for now, he let himself go. He allowed himself to fall apart, to feel the weight of what he'd lost and ache for it to be just a nightmare.

* * *

Over the next few days, Mycroft was questioned extensively regarding the particulars of Lyndsy's death. Given the peculiar nature, he was freed from suspicion as soon as an autopsy was performed, but he was still the only person capable of providing any insight into her demise. He put his observational and deductive skills to use crafting a story, methodically putting their questions to rest.

Added pressure from the Prime Minister's Office to close the investigation helped. He knew it'd be impossible for them to lay the matter to rest with so many loose ends, but there was little else they could do. He couldn't be held accountable, and he'd already made himself an invaluable asset to the Prime Minister. Within a few weeks, the entire thing was ready to be archived as a case gone 'cold'.

Mycroft requested a copy of the case file using his newfound political leverage. He'd been allowed glimpses of statements and reports while the investigation had been ongoing. He knew her name, Lyndsy. Knew where she was from and who her family was. He knew where she worked, where she lived and what her plans had been for the future before Naomi had taken possession of her body.

He also knew something else, and it was the reason he'd requested the file in the first place. He'd caught a glimpse of it when he'd read through the autopsy report, but he'd filed it away for later consideration. It was an improbability, and one he should've seen coming, but hadn't.

Alone in his flat, with a glass of brandy beside him on the dining table, and the sleeves of his shirt rolled back over his elbows, he opened the sealed envelope housing the file and searched for the autopsy report again. He didn't have to read very long before he found what he was looking for. There on the page, in black and white, was the word that haunted his every step and every thought since he'd first read it:  _pregnant_.

He'd done the math already, but he did it again now. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd conceived this child within her last few weeks of life. He knew Naomi had taken no other lovers since they'd begun their own intimate explorations. He was the father.

Mycroft's shoulders sagged. He dragged his hands over his face and once again read the page in front of him, but the contents remained the same. He'd conceived a child with Naomi, and in one night, he'd lost both.

* * *

Repetition is the best teacher.

It's what Naomi had said anyways, for thousands of years. She'd never anticipated she would be the subject of a retraining. That she'd be caught in sentiment, and be made to push away everything that distracted her. To destroy the plans she'd crafted for herself without the thought of the greater good of Heaven's protection.

The blade pushed into vulnerable flesh, cracking through ribs, and only stopping when the heart burst. The soft gasp sounded like a thunderclap in the stillness of the white room. The light died in beautiful blue eyes, and the dead body of Mycroft Holmes crumpled to the ground. Naomi dropped the angel blade and collapsed right next to him. She pulled him into her arms, tucking his slack face in the crook of her neck and holding him so tight she would have hurt him had he still been alive. Tears fell freely. The sobs wracked her body. She pleaded with him, begged for his forgiveness, and told him something she haven't finished saying last he held her:  _"I loved you."_ She continued, never minding the audience. " _I love you. I'm sorry. This is all my fault. Please forgive me, Mycroft..."_

"Again." Raphael demanded. And with a snap of his fingers, another Mycroft was created in the training room of her mind.

Naomi killed him too. She killed them all, whether her human was shown as a child or an adult. She stole every last breath of the one thousand imitations until she was covered in their blood and the light of defiance was gone from her eyes. Their bodies littered the white floor; their cold lifeless blue eyes stared in one thousand directions. One thousand hearts didn't beat, one thousand mouths didn't smile, one thousand voices didn't laugh.

No memories had been erased, nothing of her personality had been changed, but it had been a proper reminder that she was not human. She was an angel, one of the highest ranking in the host, and she had a job to do. One that would prepare the world for the coming Apocalypse.

Raphael never ordered her to kill the real Mycroft. He was an important member of the human world, after all. He'd endure until his time of usefulness was over. Naomi would do her job, but there would be distance between them. All would be right in Heaven and on Earth.

Something in Naomi died that day. Something that wouldn't be recovered for almost twenty years.


	8. 2011

Black heels clicked on wood floor, the sound echoing through the empty house. Keen blue eyes glanced over decorative objects and suits of armor, even to the little gym in one of the rooms she'd passed. Nineteen years after being torn away, Naomi, Angel of the Lord, walked through Mycroft Holmes' estate house in London. Her fingers smoothed over polished wood, she admired paintings, she breathed in his lingering scent that she remembered well. The house was extensive and completely tidy. She appreciated it already.

It hadn't been easy, the years that had passed. Initially restricted and reprogramed, she was watched as she did her job, ensured that she would obey so that they could bring about the Apocalypse. It had taken her seven years to leave Heaven. She took a new vessel then, a forty-five year old woman named Amanda. Bright blue eyes, auburn hair pulled into a neat bun, a curvy mature figure clad in a professional grey suit. She was the picture of the proper angel. Cold, calculating, strategic, marble statue.

But deep inside the most intricate part of her being, Naomi held her human close. The briefest brush of human life and love had been like cool water on a blazing fire. She longed for it, secretly and without giving herself away. She yearned for him from a distance, because that could very well be the end of Mycroft Holmes.

Besides, she didn't trust herself. Her programming was limited, but she didn't know if she would attack if she saw him. So she sent other angels to watch over him instead. The day Sherlock had overdosed, Kadiel had healed him. The day a demon had set his sites on Mycroft, Obadiah had smited it. The day that the apocalyptic earthquake hit London, Bathsheba had sheltered him. Naomi then erased the encounters from their minds and everyone moved on. Even from a distance and in the most discreet way possible, Naomi was keeping Mycroft safe.

Raphael's recent death had unlocked the caged bird in her being. Never mind she was now burdened with a divided Heaven, the loss of the last Archangel, a bid for leadership, and the leviathans on the loose. Years of the Apocalypse and the slow collapse of Heaven had shifted her priorities again. Still, she would see him.

It took several weeks to bring the disaster to a manageable chaos where she could have a moment to herself. And it was then she left her office and landed on Earth.

She wandered, taking in what she could out the life of the man she'd been forbidden to see. She was nervous for a number of different reasons, mainly being his acceptance of her after what had transpired. The memories of their last moment together were still very fresh in her mind. The pain of the fight, the heartbreak of leaving, the loss of the child she'd allowed to happen.

After a slow walk of the mansion, she'd found herself in the library. It was a calming place, intimate, and she recognized several of the books he had in his flat almost twenty years ago. She stood at the bookcase near the window, running fingertips over leather bound tomes.  _Waiting._  Waiting for her human to come home.

* * *

Mycroft exited his chauffeured car and closed the door behind him with a leather-gloved hand. Away from the bustling streets of London, all was quiet and still. All was peaceful. He liked it this way. The silence and solitude he'd grown accustomed to over the last nineteen years had become almost a balm. He kept few people on staff for convenience, naturally, people he trusted because he'd vetted them himself years before, but in all the ways that mattered, Mycroft Timothy Holmes was very much alone.

His two-story mansion loomed in front of him and yellow light spilled from its windows and its open doorway, lighting his path. Mycroft climbed the front steps at a leisurely pace, tapping the tip of his umbrella against the concrete. He met his personal attendant at the door, gave him his coat, scarf and umbrella. When he was left alone, he checked his mobile for messages and continued walking.

Nothing in his countenance betrayed the weight he carried on his shoulders. His constant worry for his brother's health and well-being. His detailed attention to their parents' security and safety. The many lives he held in his hands. The many governments and intelligence agencies that depended on his gifted intellectual insight and strategic mind. He was the 'Ice Man' to anyone and everyone who asked.

And yet there was always a part of himself he kept safely tucked away, waiting to be called forth in times on extreme loneliness or sadness. Only then did he allow himself to think of what was and what could've been. Of the many tender moments of companionship he shared with Naomi and the ones he never would. He took bittersweet comfort in them, knowing that once, long ago, he'd loved a remarkable being that shone like a star and that, miraculously, she'd cared for him in return.

He reached for the intricately carved brass doorknob of his library door and stepped inside, tucking his mobile back inside his pocket. Lifting his eyes, he stopped short and swept his eyes over the auburn-haired woman in the grey suit inspecting his bookcase. He could read very little, but nevertheless met her presence with the same cold detachment he employed in his daily life.

"I wasn't told I had a visitor," he said by way of greeting.

"I have ways of sneaking in without notice," she said. She turned towards him and a soft smile graced her lips. "Hello Mycroft."

It was the way she said his name. Somewhere inside him, it resonated and filled him up with some of the sweetest and saddest memories he'd ever tucked away. Spoken to him when he was a child, over thirty years previous. Spoken to him in his office, when he still didn't recognize who she was in a new vessel but found his interest piqued nevertheless. Whispered against his ear in moments passion and in moments of comfort; in greeting and departure.

She could change her vessel a million times and her voice could change with it, but the way she said his name would always be the same. Long legs ate up the distance between them and within seconds he'd caught her face in his hands and her lips in a passionate kiss.

Naomi rarely found herself surprised. She was a predictor, she had seen everything in Heaven and Earth, nothing was new. But every other surprise was left miles behind when he kissed her. There'd been no prediction, no thought that  _this_  would be the response. The one she'd longed for for nineteen years. She took a moment to react because of how sudden and unexpected it was, but did so passionately. Arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed her body against his. His scent, his taste, the feeling of his chest against hers, it was so human and  _so_  familiar. She wanted to drown in him. It pushed away every bit of angelic reprograming and fear of punishment. It was her freedom and intrigue.

She didn't pull away until she was certain he needed to breathe, and after she'd revealed her wings to him again. She needed to say something. Grey feathers curled around like whispers, and hands held him close. She broke the kiss but didn't move far, lingering to utter words she had wanted to say for so long.

"I love you. I never got the chance to tell you, but I love you so, _so_  much. I've never stopped loving you. I'm sorry, for every moment of pain and loneliness you've had on account of me."

Mycroft pressed his forehead against hers and tried to calm his ragged breathing. All these years, and he never once thought he'd ever hear those words from her lips. He never thought he'd hear  _any_  words from her lips, and yet here they were. He committed them to memory like the precious gift they were. "I love you too," he said earnestly. "So very much. I've thought about you every day, and I've missed you..." His breath hitched in his throat. "I've missed you, Naomi."

She didn't respond immediately, she just held him close. Physical comfort,  _any_  comfort was not something she ever engaged in. In fact she hadn't touched a human she hadn't killed since the last time she'd seen him. How strange how her abilities and actions changed with him. "There hasn't been a day where I've not missed you, feared for you. But Raphael is dead, and I am free. I am yours, if you desire me."

"I've desired you for the better part of my life." Mycroft breathed her in, pulling back to meet her blue eyes. He still half expected this to be a dream, but even if it was, he didn't yet want to wake up. "I am still yours and you are still mine, that's never changed."

Without breaking eye contact, Naomi traced her fingers over his cheek, slowly and with a careful reverence. His aged features were nothing if not more beautiful to her, they showed wisdom and strength. But they also reminded her how many years he'd been alone, years she had promised him, years of 'could have beens'. It broke her heart. She smiled, but it was sad. "I have so much to tell you, much has happened. Perhaps we can start with a cup of tea?"

"Of course." Mycroft leaned into her touch and talked himself into letting her go. It wasn't easy. He'd spent too long without her, and the need to hold her close was overwhelming. He managed it eventually, pressing one more gentle, reverent kiss to her lips. "I'll call for it now. It'll just be a moment."

Naomi took his hand with a gentle squeeze. Six minutes later they were seated together with a tea tray on a couch in the front sitting room. Naomi had lost the grey jacket and heels, and loosed the top buttons of her white shirt.

Her fingers curled around the cup of warm tea, the scent of the unique blend of herbs drifted to her nose and she breathed in the familiar aroma. Her eyes, however, were on him and they hadn't been able to tear away through the comfortable but yearning silence while they waited. But after taking that first sip of tea as the housekeeper walked away, she spoke again. "You have questions." She prompted gently.

Mycroft cradled the steaming cup of tea on his lap. "Some, yes," he acknowledged. "I'm afraid I don't know where to start." He paused, sifting through the years of information. He knew, more or less, why Raphael had come for her nineteen years previous. He'd worked it out later, when his mind cleared of grief and he could focus. He'd get to the baby, eventually, but first and foremost he wanted to know something else. "Are you alright?"

"Most recently Heaven has been in uproar and I'm attempting to gather a team so I can take over leadership." She paused, reevaluating what his question meant aside from her duty. A personal question. "But I am now. I am alright now, individually. I've been through trials and survived." Her brow furrowed slightly in concern. "Are you?"

"It's been... challenging," Mycroft said after a moment of consideration. "My success in work related endeavors doesn't extend to the rest of my life. My brother's doing better, considering, but for a long time he struggled." He paused. "I struggled as well, after your departure. I'm sure you already know, your vessel was..." He trailed off and cleared his throat.

"With child." Naomi finished for him. She averted her eyes, staring off through the large windows at the color-filled sky. "Yes, I know. I allowed it to happen. It was a selfish decision based on curiosity and nothing practical. I didn't think about the consequences through, for either the child or for you." Eyes closed. "I am sorry. Please forgive me, not just for that, but for your struggles and pain on account of my departure."

Mycroft studied her for a silent few seconds, but eventually reached over to take one of her hands. "It wasn't your fault," he said first. "You left because you had no choice and I've never blamed you for that." He paused again. "As for the child... it was a shock, I will admit. I'm not sure I'd be a suitable father, considering I've been an utter failure as a brother, but I... I would've liked to live that life. With you. If you'd wanted to."

She squeezed Mycroft's hand, her expression indescribably sad as she met his eyes again. She wasn't sure what to say, or how to mourn with him, the loss of the little being they'd not known as well as the life they didn't get to live together. "I was forced to put that curiosity behind me. But I grieved it's loss. I still do."

Mycroft set his cup of tea down on the coffee table and took both her hands in his. His gaze didn't waver. "I'm so sorry, Naomi," he said. "I'm sorry for everything. Is there anything I can do for you now? Anything at all?"

Naomi smiled, it'd been too long and she'd been through too much that blocked her from the unique nature of human companionship and love. She wanted it back, to wash in it like a cool rain. "I love you." She said again. "I think we can help each other. Your companionship is all I need, what's done is done. Perhaps we can move forward together?"

"Absolutely," Mycroft answered immediately and seriously. This was something he'd considered before. A scenario he'd manufactured inside his head, with varying circumstances. What would he do if Naomi ever came back? What would he say? This was better than any possibility his gifted mind could conjure. "We'll move forward together. I've missed you, so very much," he repeated. "And I love you more than anything. I never stopped."

Naomi's hand's held his tighter as she spoke, her gaze never wavering. "I killed you. One thousand times. That was my punishment, in addition to the murder of my vessel and our child. I watched myself kill you in many different ways so that all humanlike companionship and caring was stripped from me. It was an effective reminder." She paused. "But not complete. I loved you, I still do. And I'm going to ensure your protection, as I always have."

Mycroft couldn't imagine the horror of having to do such a thing. He was in awe of her strength and resilience, and felt perhaps a little guilty for ever succumbing to his own grief when hers must've been so much greater.

He wasn't a blind or reckless man. He knew that if Naomi so desired, she could kill him very easily. No more than a snap of her fingers, and he'd be gone. He trusted her not to kill him knowing perfectly well she was capable of it, with or without such horrific conditioning.

"I trust you," he told her firmly, needing to make that clear. "I trust you with my life, and with my heart, in the figurative sense. Whatever companionship you'd still be willing to engage in, I'll take it."

Not for the first time did Naomi wonder about this experience, wonder if these feelings she was experiencing were nothing but an echo of her human vessel. Maybe she was just leading him along, selfishly and without thought into something that was more a dream than reality. She didn't know. She  _did_  know she didn't want to hurt him. She did know she wanted to wrap him up in her wings and keep him safe. She did know that he was here and he was telling the truth.

She loved him.

Naomi leaned forward to steal a soft and tender kiss, loosing one of her hands from his so that she could cup her face. "I want you." She whispered when she pulled away, lingering nearby. "I want to be amazed by you, I want to feel human with you, I want to watch your eyes light up when I visit, I want to hold you when you sleep, I want you to whisper my name and remind me that I'm not a monster."

Mycroft felt his heart pick up speed, both from Naomi's nearness and her words. "I vow to try my very best," he promised, pulling her closer to steal another lingering kiss. He couldn't get enough of her. "And you are not a monster, Naomi. Never to me."

"You don't know what I've done." She replied, shifting only to straddle his lap and brace her hands on his chest. Her wings draped behind her to the ground, soft grey feathers brushing the floor. "At any time, you are allowed to reconsider."

"I accept your offer to change my mind, but your past is yours." Mycroft wrapped his arms around her waist and gazed into her eyes. "I am interested in who you are now, whoever that is. And I accept you as you are, same way you have accepted me."

Naomi couldn't bear to tell him her past was in the present. There'd be torture and bloodshed coming.  _Needs must when the devil drives._  She would have to do what she had to if she wanted peace and unity in Heaven. It flooded her with a guilt that she tampered down quickly. It'd be better for everyone, he'd be safer if there was peace in Heaven. Her fingers slipped into his dark hair and she smiled sadly. "Thank you, Mycroft. Truly."

Mycroft tilted his head and caught her lips in a tender kiss, wanting more than anything to turn her sad smile into a happy one. He pulled away only a moment later and moved one of his hands to release her hair from her bun. "You're very welcome, truly. I wish there was more I could do."

Naomi's hair fell in waves around her head and down her shoulders. "You can continue to be yourself. Because I'd cherish the opportunity to get to know you all over again."

She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, Mycroft was convinced. He buried one of his hand in her auburn waves and felt the silky soft strands slide through his fingers. "It is a sentiment that goes both ways," he assured her quietly. "I love you, Naomi." And without another word, he brought her in for a searing kiss.

Time became irrelevant, struggles disappeared, and the tea was forgotten as the sanctuary of Naomi's wings blocked out the world around them.

Naomi eventually took them both to his bedroom, where they left two suits on the ground to explore each other again. Later that night, curled around each other, they quietly shared stories of their life and almost twenty years of separation. They spoke long into the night until Mycroft eventually drifted to sleep in her arms.

The next two years were spent making up for lost time. Mycroft and Naomi led busy individual lives, but made time for each other whenever possible. They were both committed to making their arrangement work, and put forth the necessary time and effort. The rewards were well worth it.

Every month, when her schedule allowed and she could get away, Naomi would pay Mycroft a visit. Sometimes they would travel to one exotic location or another for a change of scenery, always hand in hand. Other times they would stay in, arms wrapped around each other in front of a crackling fire. They would play chess, talk or share a bottle of wine, and when the lights went out and they slipped underneath the covers, they'd tell each other with actions what they already knew in words. That in each other they had not only a lover, but a best friend, a companion, and a soulmate.


	9. 2013, part 1

Naomi's bid for control of Heaven was a solid one, but little by little plans began to fail. Angeles disobeyed, Castiel fled. She was consumed with it. It changed her, ignited a fire inside of her that pulled her away from the gentleness of her human lover and towards the terrifying hurricane of an angel queen. She wanted balance, she  _needed_  peace, but that was slipping out of her grasp little by little.

 _Needs must._ She would do whatever she had to in order to bring Heaven the peace and order it needed. She was  _so_  sure it was the right thing to do.

Until the day she wasn't. Until the day she realized that there was a whole of humanity to protect, and that she should have been protecting them from the beginning. She had very little time to act on the sudden epiphany.

Metatron stabbed her drill into her head and dug it in. His taunts echoed in her ears; his hands on her back, pressing her down into the desk as if trying to make up for all the pain she'd caused in that very room. He'd planned on killing her, but no one knew her drill better than she did. It wasn't meant to kill, it was meant to fix. Death was going to be agonizingly slow. The spell that cast all the angels away from Heaven was an answered prayer.

She crashed into the Pacific Ocean with broken wings, a hole in her head. But with no hope of a rescue, Naomi, Angel of the Lord, was going to die.

* * *

_(I am hoping this email can get to Mr Mycroft Holmes. Please forward on, thank you.)_

_Dear Mr Holmes,_

_I am a nurse at St Paul's Hospital in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Recently we had a Jane Doe come in after being fished out of the ocean last week. She was severely injured, unconscious and unresponsive. She is still in a coma, and I'll refrain from listing her complete condition here, but she's lived longer than the doctors expected._

_The patient is mid-forties, Caucasian, auburn hair, blue eyes, about 1.75 meters tall. While I was caring for her, I touched her hand. And, as strange as it sounds, your name and 'London' just popped into my head. When it happened the third night in a row, I knew something was...abnormal._

_I hope this made sense. I'm not sure if this was the right thing to do, I'm not sure if it's even real. But I figured I'd try, all of us in the ICU are rooting for her._

_Best wishes,_

_Annie Davis, RN_

* * *

Anthea forwarded the e-mail to Mycroft Holmes as soon as it was received. She was one of the few people who'd seen Naomi during her previous visits, and recognized the description detailed by Annie Davis. She didn't know of Naomi's angelic nature, and she couldn't be sure, but she left the final assessment in Mycroft's hands.

Mycroft's concern for Naomi had been growing steadily for a while now. He'd noticed the change in his companion, and he'd taken note of her withdrawal from him. When he read through the e-mail, his concern doubled. He requested an immediate background check on the nurse and hospital. When both of those cleared, he made room in his busy schedule and called in a flight to Canada.

Satisfied everything was in order where his work was concerned, and with Sherlock still busy dealing with Moriarty's network, he called ahead to inform the hospital he was coming. He settled in for the nine and a half hour trip on his private plane shortly thereafter. Annie Davis met him in the hospital's lobby when he arrived to give him an overview of Naomi's condition once he announced himself as her husband. He provided a name for her, filled out the necessary paper work, and followed the nurse to Naomi's room.

Many things went through his head from the moment he'd read the e-mail up to this point. He couldn't quite understand the events that had led her here, or how she'd landed herself in front of death's door. He was grateful that by some miracle this nurse had found the sense to contact him, but he couldn't help wondering what would've happened if she hadn't. He would never have seen Naomi again, would never have known what happened, and he would've grieved her loss again.

His eyes still riveted to Naomi's pale face, he removed his leather gloves from his hands. "Where's the doctor in charge?"

"She's doing the rounds-"

Annie was interrupted as a petite woman in a white coat walked into the room. She had a tablet in one arm and a serious expression on her face. "I'm Dr. Lam. You must be our miracle patient's long lost…"

"Husband," Mycroft supplied for her, and offered a hand in greeting. "Mycroft Holmes. Miss Davis here was kind enough to contact me. Could you bring me up to speed on her condition?"

"Right." Dr Lam glanced him over in quiet suspicion, but took his hand to shake. She then turned her attention to the tablet, where she'd pulled up Naomi's medical chart. Her words were clear and concise, no matter the news she brought. "Your wife was found six days ago in the Vancouver Harbour by a fishing boat. The medics thought she was dead on site, but not long after she started demonstrating vital signs and was brought here. She had a hole in her head and had lost quite a bit of blood. My emergency surgeon operated to clear the broken skull fragments and put a plate there until the donor bone fuses with her skull. Her MRI showed extensive brain damage to that area." She tapped the back of her own head just above her bun of dark hair. "The occipital lobe, with possible damage to the temporal lobe. We're talking an incredibly high chance of total blindness, and if not, it'll be hallucinations and loss of vision at the very least. But she's made it this far without infection or brain hemorrhage.  _Beyond_  anticipation. She should be dead, Mr Holmes, and without sounding insensitive, I'm surprised she's not." She almost smiled. "I have high hopes she'll recover. But we won't know the extent of the brain damage until she wakes up."

Mycroft didn't smile or otherwise give any indication of emotion because it simply wasn't in his nature, but he nodded once, politely, to confirm he understood. And then he peered over at Naomi. He didn't know much of angelic biology, but he'd seen Naomi recover from wounds before. Once, when he was very young. He'd also seen her vessel die when her grace had been stripped from it many years later.

He couldn't very well explain that to this doctor, but he was cautiously hopeful Naomi would recover too. He'd deduced Naomi was still safe within her vessel from the nurse's e-mail testimony, perhaps all she needed was time to heal like before.  _Perhaps_. He didn't want to think about the other possibility, here in front of these two women.

Mycroft tore his eyes away from Naomi, and once again fixed them on Dr Lam. "Thank you," he said professionally. "I'll be staying here until she's fully recovered."

"Considering my personal interest in this case, I'll see to it. If you have any questions, Mr Holmes, I'll leave you my contact information." Dr Lam said, handing him a business card from inside her white coat. "And I'll see you tomorrow, should everything go well." She swept out of the room a moment later, head turned down to the tablet to review recent lab results.

Mycroft tucked his gloves into his coat pocket and the doctor's business card into a silver card holder.

Alone in the room, with nothing but the beep and whirr of medical equipment to fill the silence, he found himself at a complete loss about what to do. He took a step toward Naomi's bed and carefully settled down on the edge of her mattress. From this angle he couldn't see the head wound, nor did he want to. He took her hand instead, twined their fingers together, and lifted vulnerable blue eyes to study her pale features.

"Naomi," he said through the lump in his throat. "You need to come back to me... please. I've missed you."  _And I can't lose you again._  He didn't say so out loud, but the words still burned his tongue. He swallowed them down. "I love you."

* * *

Deep inside herself, Naomi was slowly healing. Her grace had been shredded worse than she'd ever experienced, the pain was intense and the effects would not be easily overcome. The drill had been inside her head too long. Her vessel was broken, her wings in tatters, there was only so much she could do.

She should have been dead, after all.

But she was just barely aware of the outside world. Of the kind hands of nurses, the driven doctor, and then… _and then_  the hand she'd wanted to hold. Familiar, gentle, loving. She had too many apologies for him, lost time and regrets to make up for.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath, the monitor keeping time of her steady heart beat. It would be days before she climbed out of the fire and into the cool light of day.

* * *

During that time, Mycroft rarely left Naomi's side. He slept in a chair by her bed when he needed the rest and ate in the cafeteria, retreating to his hotel room only twice to shower and change. Gone were his three-piece suits and in their place he'd donned crisp shirts, casual trousers and soft cashmere jumpers.

He'd also grown a tiny bit scruffy over his cheeks and chin, but he couldn't find it in himself to worry about his appearance the way he usually would've. Instead he paced, fingers fidgeting beside his legs. He would sit and talk to her when that did little to calm his anxiety. Early the third day, he'd even retrieved his book to read to her a little.

He was halfway through a chapter when he noticed the subtle signs that she might be waking up. Closing the book, he set it aside and straightened in his chair. "Naomi?"

"Mm." Naomi tried, but the waking up process was strange. She turned her bandaged head towards him and blinked blue eyes open. "Mycroft." She exhaled and closed her eyes against the light again. "I'm sorry... So sorry."

"Shh, it's all right." Mycroft moved to sit on her bed and took her hand in a firm grip. He cupped her face with the other. "How are you feeling? What do you need?"

"I'm…I don't know." Naomi teared up and her hand flexed weakly in his firm grip. "It's all my fault. I'm alive and I shouldn't be."

He would've been relieved if it weren't for her tears. He scooted closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "What do you mean? What happened? I've got you now, you're safe."

Naomi shook her head, willing her emotions back under control so she could relay what happened. She took several deep breaths. "Heaven's blocked, the angels have fallen, I didn't prevent it. I forgot the mission, I was selfish and…." She sniffed again, turning her face away from him as if that'd stop him from seeing her cry again. "I failed."

Mycroft took a moment to processed her words as well as the gravity of the situation, but his primary concern was Naomi. Here and now, when she clearly needed him most. He smoothed a tendril of hair away from her face. "You're saying you can't go back to Heaven," he repeated for clarification. "What of your grace? Will you be able to heal regardless?"

"Slowly yes, but my wings are gone. I'll never fly again." She reached with her other hand to catch his, turning watery blue eyes towards him again. She couldn't bring herself to show him the broken, tattered remains of her once beautiful multi-grey wings. "I'm sorry." She repeated. "Please forgive me, I didn't mean for this to happen."

"You have nothing to apologize for, as far as I'm concerned," Mycroft said earnestly. "I mean that. You did what you thought was right at the time and regardless of whether or not I agree, I will never fault you for that. I love you and I respect you." He wiped her tears away with gentle fingers and met her eyes. "I'm just glad you're all right. I've been so worried."

Naomi flashed back to Metatron's attack, the helplessness of it, the  _pain_. Surprising her from behind, pinning her down on the desk as he drilled her tool into her head. If he knew she was alive, if he came after Mycroft…there were so many possibilities, so much danger. She caught his fingers and brought them to her lips to kiss. Her bright blue eyes were on him. "He planned on killing me, with my own tool. I wasn't supposed to be all right, I was supposed to be dead. I probably deserved it. I don't know what to do."

"First thing you're going to do is recover." Mycroft was already making plans in his head. "I'm not sure what protocol dictates in this case, but I'll talk it over with your doctor. You can fly back with me and we'll sort out the details at my estate. Is there a way to keep him from finding you?"

"Yes, angel wards...will hide me from all of them." Naomi breathed out, leaning into his hand. "And you, I can't bear…if you'd get hurt. I won't allow it.  _I love you, I'm so sorry._ " She slipped back into Enochian, willing another round of tears away. She felt like a failure in every single way possible, it wasn't an easy thing for her to comprehend.

"We're going to be fine. Both of us, I promise you." Mycroft shifted on the bed so he could hold her properly in his arms. As much as he could, at any rate. He kissed her temple. "I love you too," he said quietly. "I've got you, whatever happens."

Naomi relaxed with him, tears in her eyes and too many thoughts on her mind. They stayed that way until they were interrupted by Dr Lam.

The doctor deemed Naomi's abnormal recovery  _'impossible and miraculous, but I'm not asking questions. Someone's looking out for you._ ' Naomi didn't offer an explanation, but thanked the hospital staff graciously. The next day, Mycroft and Naomi boarded his private plane.

London awaited them, and before she'd even settled in, Naomi ensured that his house would be warded from other angels. She was going completely off of the grid to heal from her ordeal. She died, after all, and she was certain they'd be coming after her. The host was a scattered mess, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Didn't matter. She had a new home now.


	10. 2013, part 2

Mycroft took it upon himself to craft a new identity for Naomi. She'd already agreed to move into his sprawling estate, so it was only a matter of paperwork to secure her status as his wife. He purchased rings for both of them. Simple white gold and elegant.

He found the sight of it on their fingers oddly satisfying, but the feeling of satisfaction was immediately followed by one of deep-seated guilt. He loved Naomi and he wanted a life with her, but the price she'd paid for it was simply too high.

Naomi was healing, ever so slowly. Her grace was not, and might possibly never be, at full strength again. The surgery location had healed over, and her long hair covered the spot where new hair was growing. She wore it down and wavy around her shoulders most of the time now. Her days were spent reading, meditating, inquiring about Mycroft's work, and then sleeping with him at night. Nightmares haunted those nights, and the regret and fear of being found weighed heavily on her shoulders. But she was recovering.

In an effort to put a bit of distance from the situation, Mycroft decided to go through with the honeymoon as well. He pulled some strings, and booked the Ashford Castle in County Mayo, Ireland for a week.

Currently they stood in front of the lake, with the sun setting beautifully behind the clouds. He snaked an arm around Naomi and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Naomi appreciated the solitude, and the quiet. There was an almost peace that settles over her very being as the effects of the last few months drifted away in soft kisses and reassuring words. She leaned into Mycroft's embrace. "Thank you. For this. I believe I needed this. As they say."

"It's the least I could do under the circumstances. Thank you for coming with me." Mycroft pulled her close and lifted his eyes to the sunset. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Naomi said, tilting her head up to look at him. His face caught the fading glow of the sunlight, and it glinted off of his blue eyes. He was beautiful. Her white long-sleeved dress caught the light late summer breeze, and she almost smiled at the quiet peace creeping into her mind. "Getting there a little more every day. I'm not sure I could have said no to getting you out of the city."

"It's certainly a nice change of pace," Mycroft agreed, running his hand gently down her arm. "I've rather enjoyed having you all to myself as well. I only regret the circumstances." He turned his attention back to her and smiled a little sadly. "Perhaps in time I can ensure a measure of happiness for you."

"You already have." She assured him. "You are mine, and I am yours. That's a foundation that will support me, and us, through whatever happens. Happiness…I believe I can find it through that."

"I hope you can." Mycroft leaned in to steal a kiss, cupping her face with his free hand. "Now, I believe we have a honeymoon to enjoy. Would you dance with me, wife of mine?"

"I will, but... I want to show you something first." Naomi leaned into his touch.

She'd debated the merits of showing him her wings for several weeks now. They were not beautiful or whole, but then again, neither was she. She kissed him again, free hand holding his head as she slipped into his mind with gentle warm tendrils of grace. She unlocked the part to his mind to unveil her wings, and hoped his reaction was not negative. She couldn't bear to be cast away.

Mycroft was immediately curious, but soon that curiosity gave way to understanding. He was naturally familiar with the delicate process that gave him access to one of Naomi's most intimate features. An extension of her grace, to use her words. Her  _wings_.

He hadn't seen them in quite some time, but he'd been fond of them from the moment he'd seen them as a child. He'd always found their strength impressive and their coloring beautiful. His memory was filled with their softness and warmth.

Knowing Naomi's grace had been recently damaged, he'd deduced her wings might've undergone an analogous change. He didn't press the matter with her. He trusted that whenever she was ready to broach the subject with him, she would. And that time was now.

Gently curving his hand around the back of her neck, just underneath her auburn waves, he broke the kiss and caught his first glimpse of Naomi's wings in several months. Still grey, but clearly broken. He imagined the damage might be the equivalent of a scar on a human body, but the comparison didn't seem appropriate.

His heart ached for her and what she'd lost. For what she'd gone through, and was going through still. But he also couldn't help his ever growing admiration. For her strength and resilience. For her determination and commitment. She'd fought a war. Faced her own imminent death, alone. And yet, she was still here.

He met her gaze with soft blue eyes and spoke evenly, quietly. "Naomi Holmes, do you know how beautiful you are to me? You are the single most exquisite being I've ever had the privilege of knowing, and I love every inch of who you are. Including the parts of you that reflect your struggle."

Naomi was going to cry again, tears of relief rather than sorrow. She admired him, his perspective as well as his path, so she took each of his words as they were. Not only that, but she loved him. She loved this human with every fiber of her nearly timeless being. He saw past her zealous nature, her horrific manipulations, and her failures. He saw something worth loving, something worth holding on to. She didn't know what to do but just love him back. Her wings shuffled behind her as she curled them around, lost feathers and burned bones in all their broken glory. She wrapped her arms around him and tucked herself into his embrace. "Thank you." She breathed out. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Mycroft wrapped her up in his arms and buried his face in her hair. "Whatever it was that led us to this point, I'm grateful. I intend to hold on to you, and us, with both hands."

"I'll be held." Naomi replied. "I'm not sure what's going to happen in the coming months, years, or decades, but I'll be here for you. I won't be leaving again."

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together to the best of our ability," he assured her. "And I'll be here for you too, always." He spoke his next words in Enochian. " _I love you."_

 _"I love you too, forever."_ She held him just a bit tighter, until she was ready to let go. She pulled back and smiled adoringly at him. "Now, I think you owe your wife a dance."

"I do indeed," Mycroft agreed. "I made a promise after all, and it is our honeymoon." He stole a tender kiss from her lips and offered his arm. "Shall we, then?"

Naomi took his arm. Her wings shuffled into the usual fold behind them. Whether they were broken or not, they were still a part of her. "This is a stunning location." She said conversationally, as they walked away from the dusty colors that were left over from the sunset. "A castle seems fitting."

"I thought so." Mycroft turned his eyes from the impressive view that was his wife and swept them over the castle. Built in 1228, the castle boasted medieval architecture and its expansions had been kept well within the style. Originally it'd been a stronghold, but currently it served as a five-star luxury hotel. Mycroft pulled strings so they could have the castle all to themselves for the duration of their stay, with minimal staff to tend to their needs. "I'm rather fond of castles myself, and nature walks while I'm with you. I thought perhaps this one might cater to both our preferences." He glanced at her. "I'm very glad you enjoy it."

Naomi tilted her head to rest on his shoulder, but her eyes drifted over the stone and grass. "It's aesthetically pleasing, but I appreciate the peace of it as well. It's almost as if there's nothing else aside from the two of us. As if the struggles are absent."

Mycroft had to agree. "I find solitude beneficial in times of stress," he confessed. "And enjoyable in times of leisure as well. Considering the events of the last several months... we could use time for just the two of us. Do you miss it already? Heaven, I mean."

She was silent a moment. "Yes, and no. I'm not the same as I once was, Heaven would not be the same for me. I'm afraid of missing the opportunity to fix it. But I also don't trust myself enough to have a plan that could fix it appropriately, nor do I trust other angels not to just assassinate me if I came back. What I did for thousands of years has…gotten around, I'm sure. I just feel…lost."

His brows pulled together in concern. "You will find your way," he said seriously. "I agree with your decision to stay away from conflict. Especially when going back might put your life in unnecessary peril." He paused. "If, however, there ever comes a time when you decide to go back... I will support that too."

Naomi wondered for what must have been the millionth time why he was so good to her and  _for_  her. She tilted her head to look at him again. "If that time comes, it will come to pass with extensive conversation and contemplation. They don't need me anymore. My mission…it's changed again."

Mycroft turned his head to meet her eyes. Always blue, always beautiful. "And what is your mission now?"

"You." She said. "Keeping you safe, keeping you happy, loving you. And I intend to not fail this mission."

"I think our missions are similar." Mycroft smiled to himself, but the weight of her words wasn't lost on him. "I trust you to do whatever is necessary," he continued. "And I vow to do the same, whatever happens."

 _"'Needs must when the devil drives_.'" Naomi quoted with a growing smile. "But I promise to not become an over-zealous dictator in the meantime." She added in an attempt at a joke. "I'll do whatever is necessary, within reason."

Mycroft laughed. "I trust you not to turn into an over-zealous dictator either," he said. "I've met a few in my lifetime. They're never pleasant company." He opened the door for Naomi when they reached the castle, and steered her down ample stone hallways towards the ballroom. "Appalling manners."

Naomi laughed quietly. "My manners are very good, thank you very much." Her smile widened. "That's all the evidence I need."

"You do have excellent manners," he agreed, thoroughly enjoying the sound of her laughter, however quiet. "It's the reason I'm keeping you, overzealous dictator or not," he added in humor.

Her eyes drifted over the ballroom they walked into. "At least there is a good reason." She put her hand on his arm and smiled up at him again. "I didn't expect anything else, of course. You have good reasons for everything you do."

Mycroft covered her hand with his and guided her to the very middle of the ballroom. "I have every reason to want to keep you, regardless of your manners. I admire you immensely, as the magnificent being you are and as the kind companion you've been to me." He stepped away and kissed her hand when they stopped. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared long enough to take care of the music. Something slow they could dance to while they talked. He returned moments later and offered his hand. "Dance with me?"

"Always." Naomi took his hand in hers. Hands that had killed or harmed  _thousands_. There'd be no snapping of necks or torturing here. She'd always been gentle with him, even thirty-three years ago as a child. The skirt of her long simple white dress flared ever so slightly as she moved in to assume proper dancing position. She smiled at him. "I love you."

Mycroft snaked an arm around her back, just underneath her wings, and pulled her close. He stared tenderly into her eyes as he began an elegant sweep around the room. "And I love you," he told her seriously. "Always and forever."

Two bodies moved in rhythm. Two hearts beat in synchronization, two broken wings curled backwards. Two beings made one danced through the space of the ballroom as if dancing among the stars. Naomi and Mycroft let the world fade around them and concentrated on each other. There were no government emergencies, nor scattered angels, no demons or assassins, no near death experiences or lost 'what ifs'.

It wouldn't last forever. They'd get back to the real world and life would continue. That's how things were supposed to be, they had jobs to do. But at the end of the day, suits were pealed off, hair was let loose, and smiles were exchanged. Worries and concerns and fears were supported by  _two_. Love was grown between two. And needs were cared for.

In the weeks, months, and years beyond those days, with every adventure and struggle in the meantime, Mycroft and Naomi Holmes were…happy.

_"I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine." - Song of Solomon_


End file.
